


Clan Matters

by ShikiKyuu



Series: Seeing The Future Together [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Uchiha Council of Elders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-04-07 16:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4269861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShikiKyuu/pseuds/ShikiKyuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Uchiha Clan was superior, most powerful, a badge of honor – that was a fact Obito had known since he could remember – but he was beginning to realize the clan he was born into was cursed, and with the awakening of his Mangekyō Sharingan, he too, was feeling the encroaching darkness of hatred, and he wasn’t so sure he could conquer it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clan Truths

 

The looming gates of Konoha were almost as welcoming as the idea of sleeping in his own bed, Obito considered happily. If his team didn't have to report to the Hokage, Obito would have just Kamui-ed to his apartment.

(Perhaps he was relying on his dōjutsu a bit too much.)

Shaking his head at the errant thought, Obito hurried towards Konoha's entrance. His team followed behind at a sedate pace.

They headed straight for the Hokage tower, Minato nodding to the gate guards and staying behind his students. The walk was anything but relaxing, however. Plaguing his mind was the possible chaos awaiting the boys of his team. Not to doubt Obito’s forethought, but passing the Sharingan to a non-Uchiha would result in a tense, if not hostile meeting with his authoritarian clan. Considering Obito’s unprofessional demeanor, Minato worried the inevitable gathering would end badly.

Worst of all was his inability to help. He could only spectate.

As they passed through the shopping district, Minato noticed several civilians peeking at Obito and Kakashi who were close enough to brush against each other’s arms as they conversed. The close proximity had brought focus to their similarly bandaged left eyes. While wounded shinobi were a familiar sight now, civilians would agree it was unusual for two people to receive the same injury, and watching the whispered exchanges, he knew they were already discussing the possibilities of what had taken place outside the village.

Gossip was an appalling pastime for these people, he mused unhappily, some of his displeasure seeping into the chakra he emitted. The imperceptible amount lightly tugged at the untrained senses, warding off unwanted stares without bringing civilians to their knees. Although the undertones had been curious rather than vicious, it still irritated Minato. Those same whispers condemned Kushina for the creature she harbored for their protection and spurred Hatake Sakumo’s spiraling depression.

Shinobi like Sakumo and Kushina, although originating from distinguished clans, lived within the civilian districts. They were confronted by the harsh, shallow opinions of villagers daily, and when the attention was imbued with negativity, they understandably broke from the pressure, or fought back with a rebellious, mischievous attitude.

Reminded of his girlfriend and Kakashi’s father, he was relieved when they reached the Hokage’s office.

Before Minato opened the doors, his oldest student shouted. Obito was touching his hitai-ate with a pitiful face.

Rin touched his shoulder. “Obito...?”

“It's terrible! My goggles, they’re gone!”

“And you just _now_ noticed,” sighed Kakashi.

Minato interrupted before a potential argument could break out. Unlikely, as they were now friends, but he doubted the urge to antagonize each other had entirely vanished. “You could buy some new ones, Obito.”

Obito acquiesced, “Yeah, you're right. It just really sucks.”

With a hushed chuckle, Minato opened the doors for his team, following them from the back.

The Sandaime pushed his current document aside and offered a bland smile, the exhaust in his eyes more pronounced than before his team had departed. He had hopes the destruction of the bridge would lighten the man’s stress, but with the six tall piles of paperwork ready for analysis and signing, Minato reconsidered his expectation. And not forgetting the development of Obito’s dōjutsu… Minato loved his team, but sometimes, he wished they were a little less trouble.

“Team Minato returning from a mission. The destruction of Kannabi Bridge is a success, Hokage-sama.”

There was a slight pause before his superior breathed out, “I thank you, Team Minato, for your hard work. With the bridge destroyed, Iwagakure will be disadvantaged for some time. Perhaps the war will fall into our favor...” he uttered thoughtfully, and Minato's nerves doubled when he narrowed in on Obito and Kakashi standing in front of him, Rin between them with shaky hands bunching her apron.

Rin had noticed too then. She startled when the Hokage spoke again.

“Kakashi-kun, congratulations for a successful mission as Jōnin captain. I expect similar results in the future.” Hearing the praise, his youngest student relaxed his tense shoulders. He bowed for a few, respectful seconds.

His team was dismissed afterwards, bar himself.

Just as Obito stepped out of the room, Minato advised, “Have a good rest, Obito.”

The Uchiha, without a glance back, casually replied, “That’s the plan.”

Minato deliberately closed the doors with the sloth of a Nara, wishing he was anywhere but here. He severely lacked knowledge in matters of the Uchiha, his long-time friendship with Uchiha Fugaku insuring Minato’s complete ignorance. Before he understood his future role as the Uchiha clan head, Fugaku adhered to his clan’s demand for isolation from outsiders. Had they not met as children, Minato doubted they would have ever become close friends, because after all these years, not once had he been allowed passed the Uchiha compound gates, not even for Fugaku’s wedding to Mikoto that had him cracking smiles every hour, breaking records across the board.

Point was, he was hesitant to divulge anything about Obito’s evolved Sharingan to the Sandaime. He feared it would threaten his relationship with Fugaku, because if the Uchiha elders _were_ aware of the Mangekyō’s existence, they would be displeased to know Minato had leaked information to an outsider, let alone the most influential leader of Konoha.

However, he had sworn an oath long ago. His loyalty was bound to the hierarchy of this village. Full disclosure was his obligation as a shinobi.

Silently exhaling, he faced Sarutobi Hiruzen with a poised façade as he briefed an oral, detailed mission report, steering clear of the Mangekyō’s reveal until the very end when he had no choice. With forced reticence, Minato revealed its existence along with the expressly forbidden transplant of an Uchiha’s dōjutsu.

But rather than surprise or alarm, the Sandaime looked resigned and fatigued, the slight wrinkles around his eyes and mouth growing more distinct. There was a long, awkward silence as his superior reached into his desk compartment, extracting his pipe and a box of matches, preparing himself a stress-relieving smoke. As a grey cloud floated from the bowl, he moved from his seat and began looking out the window, his free hand fisted behind his back.

Minato fidgeted when he felt safe from scrutiny, only to painfully straighten when the Hokage sighed and muttered, “I'm getting too old for this,” before dismissing him.

 

* * *

 

Outside the Hokage's Tower, Rin sprinted towards the housing district after waving goodbye to her teammates. Once she was out of view, Obito removed his hitai-ate and rubbed his forehead.

Kakashi settled a hand on his shoulder. “You only worry her more by pretending nothing is wrong.”

He respected the hard glint in Obito's eye as he replied, “Nothing will be wrong if everything goes my way.” The lowered tone held a promise difficult to doubt, but Kakashi still felt uneasy. He tried picturing the Uchiha clan with accepting smiles, but seeing as Obito was the sole Uchiha who seemed to smile, his imagination floundered.

“That's why,” Kakashi stepped back in surprise when Obito suddenly looked at him with a firm frown, “I don't want you to _ever_ ask me to take the eye back, _no matter what_. The Sharingan is yours now. It's not mine anymore, okay?”

The abrasive glare reminded him of when Obito punched him, after Rin had been kidnapped. A phantom pain flared along his cheek where Obito's knuckles had slammed right into the bone. Resisting the urge to rub his cheekbone, Kakashi assured him. “I won’t. Besides, rejecting a gift is poor etiquette.”

“Well, I'm not sure about etiquette, but thanks.” Obito smiled gratefully.

He shook his head, though the action was too exaggerated to be taken serious. “I'd expect nothing less from you.”

“Oi, oi.” Obito pouted, crossing his arms. “When _you_ spend most of your time breaking the rules of your overbearing clan, _then_ you can tell me all about etiquette one-o-one, Bakashi.”

Kakashi let loose a quiet chuckle, turning to leave for his apartment. He paused and said, “Thank you… Obito.”

Then he walked away, feeling lighter than he could remember, like he was floating in air. It was rather nice, Kakashi thought, despite the prospect of hateful sneers in his near future.

 

* * *

 

As Obito watched Kakashi's back disappear into a crowd of civilians, he pondered over his blood family.

The Uchiha was an arrogant clan, filled with self-righteous people that considered the Sharingan to be the superior dōjutsu. Allowing an outsider to possess one was a grievous act against the clan, an action warranting prosecution. Added to that was his renouncement of clan loyalty. For the Uchiha, loyalty to the clan was everything, and going against that was _treason_.

The night he decided to bequeath his left eye, Obito knew he would be sacrificing his once chance at acceptance after finally activating the Sharingan. By offering the clan's treasure to an outsider, he had established loyalty to Kakashi over his family. He didn’t regret it, though. He valued his friends more than the family who shunned him.

Free from his team's scrutiny, Obito dropped his façade. His set shoulders slumped and the smile on his face twisted into a grimace.

He had done his best to calm his team’s concern by feigning confidence, undaunted by the possible backlash. Truthfully, he had condemned himself to an examination under the Uchiha Council of Elders, and that was utterly terrifying.

Contrary to public opinion, he was not an idiot. Obito knew what lengths the council would go to force Obito's obedience. Be it through manipulation, or by threatening his or Kakashi's life, perhaps even banishing him from the Uchiha clan, stripping Obito of his name and honor. Maybe they would revoke his shinobi status, regardless of the Sandaime Hokage’s authority.

Either way, he was in trouble with no one to turn to… except…

Obito almost slapped his forehead.

Instead, he tied his hitai-ate back in place and headed for Konoha’s shopping district on quick feet.

There was one Uchiha he could go to for help, an elderly woman who was once a council member before resigning to start up a shop supplied with shinobi and civilian items. She had been a formidable kunoichi in her youth, awakening her Sharingan at seven and achieving Jōnin status by ten. She was an eminent figure, no surprise to have been elected into the council, and it was her insight into politics he needed.

Although Uchiha Mayu was the only elder to accept his extroverted nature, she also considered their dōjutsu to be a sacred possession. If she rejected him for passing his Sharingan to Kakashi, he would be devastated.

Obito reached his destination and grinned.

Mayu's shop was three-stories high, the bottom floor stocked with civilian clothing and everyday items, while the second level provided shinobi with customized weapons and apparel. The top floor was specially designed for the Uchiha, Mayu tailoring attire appropriate for their clan, including high collars and the Uchiwa fan stitched to the back of shirts. She had been responsible for his current outfit, to his relief, as no other Uchiha shopkeeper would sell him clothes bearing the clan’s crest.

He entered her store, the wind chime overhead singing as the sphere-shaped clapper, consisting of red and white bells, tapped against the silver rods jailing it.

“I'll be with you in a minute!” a feminine voice called out.

Exactly a minute later, an old woman with pure white hair, done up in a loose bun, gracefully strolled out from the backroom with hands folded in front of her waist. Her refined smile smoothed the wrinkles along her forehead and cheeks, and accentuated the lines around her detached, obsidian eyes. Her ingrained formality was forgotten when she caught sight of his damaged appearance.

Mayu cupped the bandaged side of his face, frowning. “What happened, Obito-kun?”

Obito glanced around the store for listening ears. Uneasy even after seeing the empty room, he requested, “Mayu-obāsama, could we talk in the back? It's a long story, and I _really_ need your advice.”

She stared for a tense moment, and then chided him. “Must you persist in calling me that, Obito-kun? It's Mayu-bāchan. Remember it.”

“Ah-” She walked away before he could respond, disappearing into the backroom again.

Obito sighed nervously and followed behind her.

Inside was a small living space, two chairs facing each other with a little table in-between. He used to visit here as an Academy student, venting to his elder about his classmates’ derisive attitudes. Mayu comforted Obito each time he wavered, holding him and rubbing his back whenever he cried – angry yelling in the case of his clan’s constant scorn – and would offer him candy after he calmed.

Honestly, if he had been without Mayu or the civilian elders, Obito knew he would be no different than the typical Uchiha. That was why he arrived late to missions, to help those who saved him from self-destruction. He was incapable of refusing their many requests.

Before they sat down, she glanced at his chest. “Who are the flowers from?”

The random query threw him off. He bent his head to gaze at the bouquet in his hands, put together by Kakashi with Rin’s assistance. Since then, Obito held the assortment to his chest, preferring to keep it in hand rather than stuffing it in his pack. He forgot he was holding it this whole time.

Obito smiled and replied, “A friend, as a thank you gift. And-” he placed the flowers beside his belongings on the floor, “-that's kind of what I wanted to discuss with you.”

Mayu narrowed her eyes and nodded, gesturing toward the chairs where they settled.

He swallowed apprehensively before finally fessing up to what he had done. By the end of his confession, Obito realized he had nothing to fear, as Mayu did not reject him.

She did call him stupid, however…

“You stupid boy, do you realize how much trouble you're in? I might not condemn you like the rest of our obstinate clan will, but that doesn't mean I'll delude you into believing everything will be peachy tomorrow. Luckily for you, Sarutobi-sama knows of the Mangekyō Sharingan. We would be troubled, otherwise.”

Obito kept his head bowed, more out of cowardice than respect, to avoid a direct lashing towards his person. He felt special though, whenever she relinquished her natural composure. Mayu maintained a cold façade no matter who she interacted with, appearances of utmost importance. And in the past, it had been all she cared about.

She had once been his watcher, making weekly trips to his apartment and ensuring he was living adequately. Back then, she criticized his “feeble” personality and began teaching him the proper manners of an Uchiha elite. He had despised her for this imposition, for trying to mold him into a respectable member of the clan – be refined and meticulous, be respectful to the Uchiha hierarchy, curb trivial emotions – and each time he rebelled, she would lock him in a small closet shrouded in darkness.

It was absolute hell.

But as her momentary guardianship came to an end, Mayu changed.

Obito did not know for certain why she stopped her reinforcement, let alone willingly resigned from the council. All he could remember from then was his eventual breakdown, when he was left sobbing and begging for Mayu’s forgiveness after her most brutal session, calling him a failure and disgrace to the Uchiha clan.

Pleasing Mayu had been an impossibility, he had realized, because he enjoyed socializing with his team and treasured his emotional freedom.

Sealing away his emotions would have been akin to killing him.

And Mayu, raised from birth to be another perfect Uchiha, had dropped her own, carefully sown mask of indifference. No one else had witnessed her kinder side (no one still living, at least). She was a woman with the likeness of a grandmother which Obito appreciated during his struggles, and he considered it unfair she had been conditioned to suppress her caring nature.

As he remembered his past with Mayu, _seething_ _hate_ for his clan began to fester inside him. His fists clenched, thinking of the council: their arrogance and useless pride, their loathing for anyone outside the clan, their demand for perfection, _and so much hate that he just wanted to_ -

Arms wrapped around his neck and the toxic, pent-up emotion steadily receded. Obito shuddered in Mayu's embrace. He could suddenly sense his chakra converging behind his sole eye, that new but familiar sensation of the Mangekyō Sharingan.

The agonizing burn he once associated with the Mangekyō had vanished, an overwhelming rush of euphoria taking its place.

Obito could only describe it as raw power.

Mayu pulled back and leaned against the table. Obito didn't recall her moving away from her seat, so engrossed in his baleful thoughts. The elder bit her bottom lip, and as apprehension darkened her eyes, he flinched. She seemed frightened by something. Mayu muttered just loud enough to hear, “I prayed not… but I was wrong.”

“Bāchan...?” Obito trailed off when she took his hands, covering them with her own.

Her obsidian eyes were glistening. “Obito-kun, I must confess, this dōjutsu... has caused much grief throughout our history.” Mayu’s hands retreated from his own as she said, “Uncontrollable hatred and emotional agony is cast upon us as the Sharingan progresses.”

Obito bowed his head and clenched at the fabric of his pants as he tried processing the foreboding information, but Mayu was quick to continue without giving him time to breathe. “Our youth learns the Sharingan awakens at a moment of emotional distress. However, they are unaware of its final evolution, the true existence of the Mangekyō Sharingan.”

There was a soft shuffle, and when he glanced up, Mayu had returned to her seat, staring intensely at her folded hands with a faraway glaze. “It was not always portrayed as fiction, Obito. Long ago, the Mangekyō was hailed as a gift from the gods watching over the Uchiha clan. And today, the elders of our clan consider it as a tool for power, which they so greedily desire. It is quite… distasteful.”

Mayu's own dōjutsu activated as a hateful scowl morphed her usually calming face. She seemed to realize the slip, smoothing her expression after seeing Obito recoil. “They were, up until twenty years ago, _attempting_ to unlock the Mangekyō Sharingan in many clansmen, be they children or adults, planning to strengthen the clan.”

A certain word caught his attention, having been spoken with blatant disgust. “What do you mean by 'attempting'?”

“Experimentation would be more appropriate for what they were doing.” She hesitated, a faraway look in her eyes. “Emotional distress develops and evolves the Sharingan from one tomoe to three. That is an undisputed fact. So they believed that to achieve a greater form of the dōjutsu...” Mayu trailed off and smiled bitterly.

“Fear. Loss. Sacrifice. Death. Murder... those five elements were thought to be the secret to unlocking the Mangekyō Sharingan.”

A sense of foreboding passed through Obito, freezing him in place. She couldn't be saying-

“Fear for one's life, loss of relationships, sacrifice or death of a loved one, the act of murder onto another... those were the methods attempted, and _none_ had been successful. And despite that, the elders – my peers – would not stop. Many lives were lost during these inhumane trials, and with how isolated we had become, no one outside of the clan knew of the horrors taking place inside Konoha’s walls.”

Obito slammed his hands on the table. “But _why_?!” his voice cracked. Nausea washed over him as he imagined losing his team, or Kami forbid, _murdering_ them with his own hands. It wasn't worth it- _these stupid eyes were not worth it!_

Her face was grim. “I told you before, Obito-kun. Power.” Mayu lifted a hand, palm facing Obito to halt his response. “It began with Konoha's conception. Uchiha Madara of the Uchiha clan, and Senju Hashirama of the Senju clan founded Konohagakure. The position of Hokage was between the two founders, and by election of the people, Hashirama became the Shodaime. Shodaime-sama had intended Madara to become Nidaime, but as you know, no Uchiha has ever been chosen as Hokage.”

She paused and appeared to consider adding something before shaking her head.

“Time passed, and resentment festered. The Uchiha who lived during Shodaime-sama's and Nidaime-sama's rule remember, with great clarity, the mounting distrust of their fellow villagers. The compound we currently reside in was subsequently built. Most elders, excluding myself and few others, sought the Mangekyō Sharingan's power to seize control of Konoha, to restore what they believed was their prerogative.”

Obito settled back in his seat with hands entangling in his hair, elbows resting on his knees and back curved in an uncomfortable slouch.

This was almost too much information to digest all at once, and the clan elders he had worked so hard to impress as a little kid were turning out to be corrupt and without a decent shred of humanity. He didn't want to listen anymore, but he needed to understand the severity of his situation.

“Nearly twenty years ago, the younger generations fought against the council's goal of taking over the village. Too many Uchiha were being sacrificed for a power they had no desire to wield. Majority ruled, and the practice of forcefully awakening the Mangekyō Sharingan was deemed a forbidden act. Though as you are already aware, its existence was not completely erased.”

Mayu concluded with a weary sigh. “...The Uchiha clan is unworthy of admiration or praise, that which is so given by our youngest generations. Our history is nothing but spilt blood, Obito-kun, because of these damnable eyes.”

His senior wilted before him, a grimace pulling at her loose skin, red eyes haunted – yet, somehow demonic... Obito couldn't suppress his sudden abhorrence – and her brows heavily furrowed.

A desperate need to escape had Obito standing, but rather than fleeing from the shop like he wanted, Obito's feet guided him to a body-length mirror sitting in the corner of her backroom. He stared at his own face, regarding the reflection as he would a frightened animal. He was shaking uncontrollably, teeth and fists clenched so tight his jaw began to ache and his nails began to draw blood. His skin was pasty and nearly the shade of Rin's medical bandages. And most unnerving was his eye. The crimson color was practically glowing, the black pinwheel spinning frantically and emphasizing the insanity whirling within him. The pounding in his chest and temples was excruciating and _loud_ , and why-?

“Why are you telling me this?” he choked out, a palm concealing his eye.

Obito waited for what seemed like hours, screaming in his head if only to avoid thinking at all.

Mayu's voice cut through like a sword. “The Sharingan has changed most good men and women... into hateful, selfish human beings, Obito.” There was no warmth added to his name. Obito glided to the floor, putting his back against the mirror. Mayu walked up to Obito and sat across from him on her knees. Her movements were slow and pained, and for a moment, Obito wanted to lead her back to the comfort of a chair.

Mayu's red glare kept him in place.

“I have seen it time and again, watching those I care about become people I no longer recognize. I've seen the most compassionate Uchiha become greedy, self-righteous bastards in a blink of an eye, and others so gradual, you wouldn't notice the change without seeing them every day. And it always follows after the Sharingan awakens.”

Obito unconsciously leaned forward. “How can... how can you be sure...?” he asked with hesitancy.

In an abrupt move, Mayu reached up toward his face and pulled down the edge of his bandage near his left cheek. With a baffled wide eye, he followed the unraveling gauze to his lap. She lifted his chin so he was staring at her dōjutsu again. Unexpected flashes flickered before him, of a little girl swiftly dealing killing blows to enemy shinobi, her eyes shining red with tears. As the dead collapsed, they molded to a cold obsidian lacking life. He blinked, and Mayu was before him again, her hand off his chin and on the closed lid of his missing eye. She opened the empty socket with her thumb and frowned.

It was strange for Obito. He had never been capable of closing one eye without the other following, but with one gone, the left eyelid automatically shut without encouraging the right. Mayu's finger was the only thing keeping it open.

Obito clutched her wrist and softly said, “That was you.”

Mayu nodded as she slid out of his hold. “...I know it's the Sharingan from my own experience. I unlocked my Sharingan after the defeat of my comrades, losing myself in the process. I was just like you, Obito,” she admitted. “I still had my innocence. I was carefree and happy... but after that failed mission, something inside me changed. It was suddenly easier to be selfish, thinking only of myself. Fighting only for myself. No one else mattered anymore.”

Her Sharingan flared. “It was easier feeling hatred, for my family who tried controlling my destiny, and for the friends who continuously got between me and my goals, or at least, that was how I viewed the world then. I pushed everyone I loved away.”

Obito could feel remnants of that hatred radiate from Mayu's taut form. It was stifling and scarily familiar... and he finally understood the embrace she had previously forced on him. He had nearly succumbed to his own hatred – a vile emotion he could not recall having before today – for the clan elders. She must have seen it in his eye when it spiraled into the Mangekyō.

Her looks of fear and apprehension was branded into his memory.

“And you think the same thing will happen to me, don't you?” Obito dreaded the idea of surrendering to hatred, or anything of the sort. He may have wanted to be considered a part of the Uchiha clan, but Obito had always fought to remain true to himself. Acceptance was pointless if he had to abandon his compassion or general happiness.

His feelings for Rin were because of this. She never expected him to become another person, accepting Obito for who he was. Rin believed in him and his dreams, cheering him on and helping any way she could. Rin was the first person to acknowledge him, a very precious friend.

Mayu placed a hand over his heart, a grieved frown stretching her lips. “I'm afraid it's a likely result, Obito. And with the Mangekyō Sharingan, I fear it's inevitable.” She sounded so confident, certain of his future, as if the Uchiha Obito she knew was already gone.

Her response angered Obito more than anything ever had. Did she really believe him to be that weak?

“You're wrong,” he calmly stated, contrary to the boiling rage he felt stirring. Obito wouldn't let it control him. “I mean no disrespect, Mayu-bāchan, but _I am not weak_.” He stressed this as passionately as possible, taking Mayu's extended hand and returning it to her lap. “If the Sharingan truly corrupts our clan as you believe, then I will _fight_ and _conquer_ _it_.”

Obito placed a fist on his chest. “I'll master my Sharingan and remain Uchiha Obito, a loyal shinobi of Konohagakure. And that is a promise.”

Mayu stared impassively, her dōjutsu wandering from the closed hand forming his promise sign, to Obito's face that exuded unwavering resolve. Her scrutiny ended as Mayu sighed and reached for the gauze she had removed, beginning to re-bandage his left socket. Obito startled when she replied.

“You have become my most important person, Obito-kun. Losing you to this cursed cycle would break me, so you better keep your promise.”

Mayu pulled away once she finished with the bandage and smiled, her dōjutsu deactivating. Obito returned a broad grin, his arm rubbing the back of his head in a bashful manner. Mayu put a leg forward with hands on her bent knee, and then pushed herself up, the younger Uchiha immediately standing to assist her to her feet, considerate as always. She gratefully patted his shoulder before walking to the door leading back into the store.

Obito touched the cotton material around his head and whispered to himself. “I promise, Mayu-bāchan. I promise.”

For Mayu. For himself. And for his team.

 

 


	2. The Calm

 

“DYNAMIC ENTRY!”

Hearing the piercing cry did not prepare Kakashi for the powerful kick to the side of his bandaged face, and as he flew into the wooden gate beside the pavement, he cursed his attacker. Thankfully Rin lived in the opposite direction, else he be enduring her own attacks for being careless protecting his eye.

In his defense, he had been half-blind for a mere two days. Even the best shinobi would require some training before overcoming the struggles that come with a blind spot.

Pulling himself out of the wreckage and brushing dust from his clothes, Kakashi sighed. He had hoped to return to his apartment for a long overdue slumber, and by now, Obito and Rin were in their homes, asleep.

“VICTORY! The Power of Youth has finally defeated my Eternal Rival, Hatake Kakashi!”

He glared up at his so-called rival as the boy flailed his arms, thrusting his hips and sprouting out exultant exclamations that practically burst Kakashi’s eardrums. His eye rolled up in exasperation, thumb and forefinger pushing against his pulsating temples.

“Gai.”

“How WONDROUS a day this is for ME, Maito Gai!”

“Gai.”

“For today, EVERYONE shall flock to my side, AMAZED by the YOUTHFULNESS that guides my TRIUMPHANT FISTS!”

“Gai!”

“For I, Maito Gai, am- ACK!”

Out of patience, he snatched the other boy's scarf and twisted it with a quick spin of the wrist, choking Gai. A line of drool slipped from the side of his gasping mouth, and the constant twitch of Kakashi’s right eyebrow began to settle in sight of Gai’s predicament. He savored the sight before releasing the threaded accessory, Gai collapsing with a pitiful wail.

Kakashi sighed and muttered, “I'm exhausted,” as he started to walk away. Something around his ankle stopped him. Looking down and seeing a trembling hand, his shoulders sagged in resignation. Figures Gai wouldn't give up today of all days.

Large bushy eyebrows suddenly invaded his personal bubble and he staggered back, punching the adjacent body across the cheek. Gai crashed, forming another hole in the wooden gate while shouting about youth and Kakashi's reaction time. He sighed again, irritation simmering within his weary figure.

When Gai emerged from a cloud of dust, he was no longer bursting with unrivaled energy. His eyebrows and lips were pulled downwards in a morose expression, gaze focused on the bandages concealing Obito's- no, _his_ Sharingan eye.

A sense of unease turned his stomach. He had been distracted by the idea of rest and had yet to think of a cover story for his injury behind the mass of gauze. Was one even necessary? Because it would not remain secret for much longer, not when Minato was currently updating the Hokage on recent events, who would proceed to inform the Uchiha clan of what had transpired.

Lying was pointless.

Gai rudely pointed a finger in his face and followed the hand gesture with a tactless question. “What the hell happened to your face?” At least the Chūnin's voice level was at a minimum.

He backhanded the digit and continued towards his apartment, Gai's heavy footsteps behind him. “Had a mission, Rin was kidnapped, I lost an eye, Obito and I saved Rin, and Obito gave me his left Sharingan eye. End of story,” he listed tonelessly.

“What!”

Using Gai's shock to his advantage, he vanished in a puff of smoke, wishing he could use the Mangekyō to escape Gai's persistence. Even as his apartment came into view, Kakashi never stopped running until he was inside, door locked. While he longed for the home he once had with his father, he admitted it was nice to finally have enclosed housing. Gai was unable to enter without a key, and luckily for Kakashi, the boy was considerate enough to not break down the door with Taijutsu.

An annoyed groan sounded from his living room when fists rammed against the closed door.

“Let me in, Kakashi! You can't just leave me without an explanation,” Gai screamed, his booming voice mercifully muffled.

“That hyperactive brat never shuts up.”

He chuckled at Pakkun's comment. The puppy jumped from his perch on the couch and scratched an ear with a back paw, droning with pleasure. He bobbed his little head and barked with a rapid upward lurch of the neck, plummeting onto his back and stretching out his limbs. “Kashi-kun, will Obi-gaki be coming back soon?”

He was grateful for the distraction from Gai and the Sharingan.

Kakashi dropped to his knees, his fingers holding Pakkun's front paws and rubbing the pads. “You always ask that, Pakkun. You should know the answer by now.”

Their first meeting was a few months after Team Minato's formation, and for the extroverted Uchiha, each meeting since had been an unpleasant experience. The memories of his companion biting Obito’s hand brought a hidden smile to Kakashi's face.

Pakkun's tongue lolled to the side of his muzzle. “But he's so much fun to play with.”

Kakashi stroked underneath his furry chin with a fleeting laugh before scooping Pakkun up and bringing him back to the couch where they relaxed together. Pakkun nuzzled his neck and mumbled, “You're different somehow.”

He remained silent, petting the puppy until sleep finally took over.

...A shower could wait...

 

* * *

 

In Mayu's shop, Obito was looking through a shelf of goggles on the second floor, but something was nagging him. Since his first year at the Academy, he always wore his orange-shaded goggles, and for a ridiculous reason. He didn't like wearing them, and now that he possessed a Sharingan, they no longer had purpose. The eye drops he carried were just as meaningless.

It was about time he let them go.

A hand patted his shoulder. “Are none to your liking, Obito-kun?”

He shook his head and faced Mayu. “Of course not. You have everything like always.”

“But...” she encouraged.

“But I don't think I need them.” The Mangekyō began a new chapter to his life, one without connections to his childhood dreams, which were just that... childish, the dreams of a youth who sought recognition from his clan. “That can't be me anymore.”

She hummed in response with closed eyes, then snapped her fingers so abruptly that Obito jerked. She rested a hand on his back, urging him toward the first aid section where a multitude of bandages were shelved. Mayu rifled through a variety of boxes until coming across her intended item, displaying it with a flourish of the hand. The cover picture depicted a coil of orange fabric with a yellow glow secreting from the edges.

Mayu smiled. “While I agree to forgo the goggles, orange is still your signature color, Obito-kun. That should never change.”

He accepted the offered box, unsealing the tab and lifting it to reveal ten perfectly coiled bandages colored a bright orange, matching the shades of his forgotten goggles. He removed Rin's medical tape and replaced it with Mayu's, speeding to a mirror as she continued.

“They're not normal bandages, of course. These automatically attune to your chakra signature, becoming a part of you.” He examined his visage and grinned. This was definitely him, Uchiha Obito. “They will only unravel by your own hand and cannot be ripped or cut.”

Awesome.

“Thank you, Bāchan!” He sped back to her side, hugging her as tightly as possible.

She rubbed his back, chuckling. “You are welcome, my child.”

“So how much?” he asked, pulling back.

“Free of charge. It always is for you.”

Obito tousled his hair, embarrassed. “I appreciate it, I do. But you do so much for me, and I have the money now, so I can pay for everything.”

Mayu waved his objection away.

He had made the same argument after becoming a shinobi, when she tailored his outfit. With only a few D-rank missions, he would have had enough to pay Mayu for her brilliant handiwork. She declined then, too.

He appreciated her generosity. For his whole life, he watched children be spoiled by their parents, being showered with presents and sweets and love. He had envied them until Mayu stepped in.

Despite their rough start, she became a surrogate parent. Mayu comforted him when he needed it, offered him candy when he was down, brought him out for food during his free time, and loved him in her own way. She was cold at first glance, but inside, he found a loving soul buried by decades of hardships. In a way, Kakashi was like Mayu. They were both good people, but their lives had been none too generous. They hardened and closed off from everyone else, and only with a select few did they truly shine.

“That reminds me...”

He cocked his head to the side, confused when Mayu passed him, not finishing her sentence. She headed to the topmost level and called out, “Give me a moment.”

As he waited, he grabbed a basket and tossed the remaining stock of bandages in. He went downstairs to the civilian items, searching for an hourglass vase until his eye landed on one decorated with brown dogs, reminding him of Kakashi's hand-chopping mutt. He cursed the unpleasant memories and put the glass vase into the basket, setting it beside his belongings in Mayu's backroom before returning to the second floor.

When his foot met the final step, Mayu returned. In her arms was a pile of clothes, neatly stacked and folded into perfect squares. What caught his attention were the prominent colors of red and white, proudly displayed upon lavender fabric.

The Uchiha crest.

“Bāchan...?”

“I know you wouldn't normally wear an outfit like this, but I think it would be best for tomorrow.” She handed him the clothing. “You may be Uchiha Obito right now, but...”

He pulled the clothes to his chest, adopting Mayu's severe countenance. “...once you are in front of the council, you must- be- _an Uchiha_.” She spat the words shortly and meaningfully, and he responded by tightening his hold on the materials.

“For the Uchiha, appearances will always be more powerful than words. Remember that.”

Mayu turned away and flipped two fingers in his direction, a silent goodbye.

Obito extended an arm out. “But, Bāchan, what am I supposed to do exactly?” Did she really expect temporary attire and a good luck to be enough? He felt woefully unprepared.

“You will be fine, Obito-kun. I'm the one who taught you after all.” She briefly smiled and then proceeded back upstairs.

“Just believe in yourself.”

 _Easier said than done_ , he thought.

 

* * *

 

The Uchiha compound was unusually hectic with children running passed the legs of adults who conversed with each other, discussing their day or bargaining prices when necessary. He preferred this much commotion, though, as he was quite invisible to his brethren, avoiding the typical glares of absolute loathing. Further inside the compound were fewer people, but without distractions, they all noticed his current state, visibly suspicious of his bandaged eye.

While he would have bowed his head submissively in the past, Obito now walked with set shoulders and his chin lifted high, face forward. There was no reason to feel embarrassed anymore, for with the third stage Sharingan and the Mangekyō, he had the potential of becoming more powerful than anyone in the Uchiha clan. And perhaps, someday, he would have the ability to save his family from their own destruction... as long as he himself remained as pure as possible.

Finally reaching his little apartment, Obito leaned against the closed door and sighed. He momentarily considered sliding down and sleeping on the floor, but the assortment of flowers in his arm and the bag hanging from his wrist encouraged him to continue moving.

He set the items on the kitchen counter, taking the vase out and filling it with water. He removed the bouquet's binding and dipped the stems into the glass, shifting the yellow flowers slightly above its surrounding counterparts and setting it on the nightstand beside his bed. He then reapplied the bandage into a bow knot around the narrowest part of the vase.

He stepped back and admired the arrangement, the orange hues of a setting sun peeking through the window shades and saturating the colors of each individual petal. It was unfortunate the life of a picked flower was so brief, wilting until nothing but the green stem remained with the petals brown and dead on the floor.

Though the flowers would wilt, his newfound friendship with Kakashi would survive long after he tossed them into a trash bin. He and Kakashi had an understanding between them now. They still bickered endlessly, but the spite was no longer present.

And honestly, that was all Obito could have asked for.

 

 


	3. Team Gathering

A sudden round of frantic knocking had Kakashi falling out of bed, bringing his bed sheets and Pakkun down along with him. He ignored the puppy's string of expletives, dressing quickly before he sped to the door.

Behind it was his sensei and Rin. The girl seemed normal, almost bored with the way she was gazing towards the morning sky, but the staccato taps of a finger against her leg gave away the turmoil she felt. Minato, on the other hand, seemed composed, which was expected from a Jōnin of his caliber, but his sensei’s appearance differed greatly from the agitated raps he dealt upon the door.

He had yet to question their visit, but he didn't have to. Minato answered without prompting. "We're to meet Obito at the council hall. There is a meeting our team must be present for."

"Meeting?" About what, he almost asked, until memories of the last few days resurfaced. So he followed with an "Already?" instead. That sounded a tad more intelligent than the former query.

His sensei caught the slip. The teasing grin directed at him had Kakashi ducking his head to hide the blush of embarrassment, but when he lifted his head with cooled skin, the pair was already dashing across the rooftops. He sighed and closed his door with a goodbye to Pakkun.

Just as he was about to follow, an obnoxious voice screamed his name. He glanced over his shoulder to see Gai leaping towards him, and with that horrific sight, he fled the scene, screaming for his team to wait for him.

They laughed and continued onwards, faster than before.

 

* * *

 

When they entered the council hall, there was no sign of Obito. Kakashi was unsurprised by this, for when was the Uchiha ever on time, even for something as important as this?

 _Never_ , he drily answered himself.

But just as he thought this, there was a sudden flare of chakra from behind them. He and his team turned to see Obito with orange bandages over his eye in place of Rin's medical gauze. His signature outfit was replaced by a low collar, navy blue mantle that reached down to his knees with palm length, bell sleeves. The front of the mantle had an open slit up to a thin, lavender obi that tied around his waist, the tails of the sash aligned with the mantle's bottom hem. Under the mantle, he could see black pants taped at the ankles, leading to a pair of black sandals.

Obito looked at them with a broad grin, his long sleeve flowing with a wave of his right arm. His blazing crimson eye faded into black as he jovially said, "You know, I'll probably never be late again. Awesome, right?"

Rin was first to react, charging forward and slapping the back of Obito's head. "You idiot!" She smacked him a couple more times. "That's a grievous misuse of your Sharingan. You should be more responsible!"

"Mercy! Mercy," cried the cowering Uchiha, suffering under Rin's relentless fist.

Off to the side, Kakashi rolled his eye. He moved between his teammates and pulled them apart, halting the one-sided assault with an exaggerated sigh. "We need to be serious at a time like this," he commented with annoyance.

They straightened, sheepishly rubbing the back of their heads.

Obito opened his mouth but abruptly shut it again, adorning an uncharacteristic, blank expression. He tilted his head and followed Obito's gaze to where Uchiha Fugaku stood beside their sensei. The blond clasped a hand on the older man's shoulder with a soft mutter of his name.

The clan head nodded in response, then continued forward until he and Obito were face-to-face. The two Uchiha said nothing, merely staring at each other in an unnervingly cold manner. For the first time since meeting the other boy, Kakashi could believe Obito was a true Uchiha just with that impassive countenance, his face slack and his obsidian eye icy and detached. He thought Obito incapable of being like his aloof family, but he was wrong.

An awkward five minutes passed before Fugaku bowed his head to Obito, an act that shocked Kakashi, and glancing at his sensei and Rin, seemed to shock them as well. The clan head then turned to the side, staring right into Kakashi's lone eye with an intensity that radiated contempt.

He straightened, struggling not to fidget under the harsh attention. Surely if Obito managed, he could too. But as time ticked by, painfully slow and never-ending, he grimaced behind the mask that hid the embarrassing falter. He gained a new respect for Obito who had nothing to cover his face from Fugaku's penetrating eyes.

He didn’t know how much time passed when Fugaku eventually dropped a hand onto his shoulder, following the touch with a sharp nod. He stepped back and muttered a belated greeting to Minato while continuing further down the hall and into the council room.

His paralyzed body remained as straight as a pole, even when the door closed behind the clan head with an audible click.

Rin and Obito's synchronized voices reanimated him.

"Kakashi?"

He looked at his teammates, Rin concerned and Obito grinning.

The Uchiha wrapped an arm around his neck. "Congratulations. It looks like the so-called Uchiha-sama has accepted you as a fellow holder of the Sharingan... albeit grudgingly."

"Seemed like he wanted to do nothing more than decapitate me," Kakashi mumbled. Louder, he asked, "What's with the staring anyway?"

Obito's smile faded. He hummed a noncommittal noise and pulled his arm away. "It's an Uchiha thing," he replied with a shrug.

"Doesn't answer the question." Kakashi crossed his arms, peering up in a scrutinizing manner.

"Look, it's just a stupid way my family weighs a person's worth." Obito waved, dismissive. "You passed. I passed. Nothing to worry about."

Rin budged Kakashi's side, mirroring his stance but with a dismayed pout. "Forget your clan head's staring. What about yours? I didn't know you could keep a straight face for that long."

Obito recoiled, as if offended by her preconceived thought.

 _But honestly_ , he mused, _I doubt Obito would ever be offended by something Rin says_.

The boy's grin proved him right. "Oh, come on, Rin. I'm an Uchiha," he boasted, raising his chin and pointing a thumb towards his chest. "Being a blank-face bastard's practically in my blood."

"That's not much to be proud of, Obito," their sensei added in playfully.

All but Kakashi belted out a laugh, though he did release a quiet chuckle that shook his shoulders. It was a momentary relief from the profound aura of tension that had stubbornly refused to alleviate around them. Despite their normal interactions, Kakashi had noticed his sensei's furrowed brow, Rin's thigh tapping, and Obito's exaggerated gestures. Their nervous tics were quite noticeable for those who worked with them daily, like himself.

The laughter ceased immediately at the sight of the Hokage trudging towards them with arms behind his back, his expression unreadable. His customary, gentle features were weary and tense, setting him and his team on edge for a second time, though a quick glance at Obito said he was only mildly concerned. Obito's rigid posture exuded an unwavering confidence that differed from his typical, spastic overconfidence.

Between yesterday afternoon and this morning, Obito had undergone a drastic change. Kakashi wondered what happened in such a short timeframe... His Hokage disrupted the thought.

"I wish you luck, Obito-kun."

Obito bowed low. "Thank you, Hokage-sama."

"And be sure to withhold certain truths from unwanted ears," was all he said before passing and nearing the door.

The team watched his back disappear into the dreaded council room, the door closing silently this time around.

Rin nervously cut through the tension with a question. "What did he mean by certain truths?"

Obito clarified. "The Sandaime was referring to the Mangekyō Sharingan. Konoha's council can never know about it."

Kakashi couldn't agree more. "That would be best."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I understand what you both are talking about," Rin cut in with a tilted head, her fingers curling together against her stomach.

He was a little peeved before remembering Rin had no prior knowledge of the councils within Konoha. "I forgot that you're from a civilian family." She looked between him and Obito, then at Minato.

The blond Jōnin offered their female teammate a small smile, explaining in a familiar lecturing tone. "The council consists of our Hokage and his advisors, and then of the seven clan heads. Before its establishment, civil war was rampant within the clans. The Uchiha were particularly violent during these times, and the other clans could barely hold their own against the Sharingan. Their kekkei genkai became a source of fear, and tension rose significantly until an agreement was reached by a few members of each clan by witness of the Nidaime Hokage. The agreement instituted Konoha's Council as a means to spread the power equally between all seven major clans, but unfortunately, the paranoia surrounding the Uchiha clan's dōjutsu was not entirely eliminated."

"You can see that paranoia in the way members of my clan are placed within teams," Obito added. "An Uchiha is never paired with the other leading clans because of the Sharingan's copying abilities. If there is anything Shinobi clans are protective of, it's their special techniques."

"Should the other clans know of the Uchiha's dōjutsu having a more powerful form, Konoha would probably have another civil war on its hands, and with the current war plaguing the elemental nations, that cannot be afforded," Kakashi concluded as he stepped back and leaned against the wall.

Rin nodded once and frowned. "It all sounds so ridiculous. Why can't everyone just get along? We all belong to the same village."

It was an innocent question he expected from a peacemaker like Rin, showcasing her most endearing attribute. He couldn't fault Obito's feelings for her – and speaking of which, the Chūnin was currently watching her with a dopy and exalting grin.

Honestly, his teammate was hopeless in these moments.

Obito caught his blatant staring when their sensei patted Rin on the head.

"What?"

"Nothing," Kakashi murmured, dropping his head so he could roll his eye.

…And perhaps to also hide the amused smirk beneath his mask.

 


	4. Konoha's Council

 

The council chamber was larger than his apartment, Minato observed as he and his team sat in their respective seats in the middle of the room. Before them was a rectangular table, a foot in width and a length of at least ten average sized individuals, a useful surface for notes and important documents, or hands in their case. Behind them were two dozen chairs for the council of civilians, vacant except for sessions involving both civilian and ninja contingents. And in front of them was Konoha’s council, set up in a quarter circle with three levels, the bottom shorter than the upper two. Left and right of the council members were two other sets of leveled seating, occupied only by clan members during clan meetings.

Minato glanced at his students. Beside him was Kakashi and then Obito, both poised and almost bored in manner. He was entertained by their similar expressions with both their left eyes bandaged. Then there was Rin, the only one shifting uneasily, trying and failing to keep her anxiety at bay. Formal settings such as these had always put her on edge, even if she wasn’t the one under scrutiny.

He turned his attention to the prominent figures that either gazed away or quietly conversed with each other.

Sitting at the top level from left to right was Hyūga Hitoshi followed by Inuzuka Ashi, Aburame Shimitsu, and Fugaku. As expected, the two at the ends of the table were glaring off to the side. While Minato had seen Fugaku crack several smiles before, the Hyūga clan head never allowed others to see beyond his cold eyes and harsh frown.

Hiashi and Hizashi were good friends, and he could hardly believe they were the children of Hitoshi. The younger twin was laid back and cracked jokes even during the most trying battles, while Hiashi, though professional and strict as a Shinobi, was a genial man otherwise. And together, they were a cheery force to be reckoned with.

In the middle, the Aburame and Inuzuka were in a deep discussion, heads close and murmurs down to a whisper. Ashi was as feral looking as his daughter Tsume, with sharp claws and fangs with red markings on his cheeks, his hair cropped short but no less spiky than other clan members.

Despite his fierce visage, his presence did not compare with the intense shadow that was Shimitsu. Shibi’s mother didn’t wear a high collar like the rest of her clan, but was clothed in an oversized obsidian kimono that matched the color of her hair, which was a waterfall of black waves going past his field of vision, the front strands spilling over her shoulders and down into her lap. And covering her eyes were rectangular shades, the upper portion of the frame meeting her flat bangs.

The Ino-Shika-Chō trio sat in the middle isle.

First was Akimichi Chōharu, pale-skinned and rounded like the family she represented, her cheeks adorned by three tiny swirls, the tails meeting in the middle. Her short locks were lifted by a wide, red headband that wrapped around the back of her head and forehead, leaving random strands of auburn hair to fall over the material.

Nara Shikajiri was next to her, leaning back in his chair with closed eyes and folded arms. His brown hair was pulled back into a simple braid, the coiled end laid against a broad shoulder. He hummed sporadically as a response to the scowling blond beside him.

Yamanaka Inobu had short hair opposed to his son Inoichi, the ends curling around his ears and bangs brushing along his eyebrows. He couldn’t understand what was being said, but Minato knew they were hostile words by the glares that were being sent towards Fugaku. Unsurprising, because while the Uchiha and Hyūga had a mutual dislike for each other’s dōjutsu, the Yamanaka absolutely despised the Uchiha, for they were the most possessive of their special mind techniques.

And then there was Shimura Danzō- cold, callous, merciless Danzō, a war-torn man with questionable ideals.

Minato narrowed his eyes, uneasy when noticing how fixated the old man was on his two male students. He didn’t know why, but he really wanted to shield them from Danzō’s constant stare. To distract himself, he observed the bottom level that sat the Sandaime in the middle with Utatane Koharu and Mitokado Homura at his sides.

Though Danzō was also an advisor, the latter two had been on Sarutobi-sama’s Genin team and had a lot more influence in the Hokage’s final decisions. And for a moment, he imagined himself as Hokage, playing with the idea of choosing his own advisors.

Before he could get lost in daydreaming, everyone’s attention was called to order by the Sandaime.

“We are here today to discuss a recent development within the Uchiha clan, brought to my attention by Namikaze Minato, official Jōnin Sensei to the Chūnin team consisting of Uchiha Obito, Nohara Rin, and Hatake Kakashi.” He paused. “By law of the contract upholding peace between Konoha’s clans, this council is assembled when secret techniques or a dōjutsu has either been stolen or given to an outsider, whether it be someone not of that clan’s blood, or someone not of our village. A few days ago, the dōjutsu of the Uchiha, the Sharingan, was transplanted into a Konoha Shinobi who is not a member of the Uchiha clan.”

At this point, the Nara head was sitting up with open eyes, a clear sign of surprise for someone of his indolent clan. And why wouldn't he be surprised by a first in known history? Behind those eyes was a flicker of calculation before the man relaxed again with a brief knowing smirk fading from view, leaving an apathetic expression in its wake.

He could only speculate the myriad of thoughts that rushed through the man’s brain, but the dozens or possible thousands of realizations Nara Shikajiri had come to would remain a mystery to all but himself, but what Minato knew, without a doubt, was the clan head's utter dismissal of the situation presented to him.

He took note of the shock the other clan heads shared, and inconspicuously shifted when Danzō straightened in eager interest and the Hyūga head tightly clenched his connected hands. The former's reaction was unnerving, while the latter was only expected. No one in this chamber had rights to interfere with the Uchiha clan's handling of the Sharingan, but he did not put past anyone here from vocalizing their objections as Hyūga Hitoshi would, or from taking advantage of the situation like Danzō might in the future.

As the Hokage continued, revealing his male student's role in today's gathering and listing their mission objectives for the bridge he destroyed in Kusa, his mind wandered to the next council they would be facing, or more accurately, the council Obito would be facing. The Uchiha Council of Elders. They were an awful bunch, according to Fugaku, too focused on power rather than the well-being of their clan, though the specifics had never been disclosed to him. And being his sensei, he was well aware of the boy's desire for respect by his family. He feared the pompous group of elders would use that to bend Obito to their will.

"Minato-kun, report."

He dipped his head in a respectful nod as he retold the beginning events from their recent mission, up until he had left for his own personal assignment, and then trailed off for Kakashi to take over, having been the team leader after his departure.

Avoiding all mention of the Mangekyō wasn't difficult, he noted, after listening to his team's edited recounts, of how they managed to defeat the group of Iwa-nin and then waited for his return while recovering from the brutal battle. Then Obito took over, ending the report with his Sharingan's transplant.

Silence reigned the chamber, and eventually, of all the clan heads, it was Aburame Shimitsu who spoke. "Obito, for what reasons did you decide to give an outsider your Sharingan? You understand that is a grievous offense to your clan, do you not?"

At the words “grievous offense,” in his peripheral view, he noticed Kakashi’s hands beginning to close above his knees under the table, but just as his left formed a fist, a pale hand was already covering the right.

He looked at Obito then, at the swift smile of comfort he offered Kakashi before confidently meeting eyes with the Aburame head, and smothered a smile of his own, one that reflected his pride for their friendship, and for Obito’s maturity.

"Aburame-sama, I am well aware of my clan’s protectiveness towards our dōjutsu, and I understand the importance of keeping it within the clan. But Kakashi has all my trust and respect, and if there is anyone not of the Uchiha clan who deserves the Sharingan, it is my teammate. I do not, and will not regret my decision, because he will learn to use it as great as any Uchiha, and perhaps even better."

"His advancement in rank at such a young age is impressive," she affirmed after a brief glance in Kakashi's direction, "and I concur."

Not much else was discussed, or at least, nothing the council wanted to say in front of him and his team. The Sandaime dismissed them.

Minato stood first and made his way to the door, opening it for his three students and then following behind a feet-shuffling Rin.

The door shut behind them, and Obito quietly whooped. "That went better than I thought it would!"

"Better than-? No, that was utterly terrifying," his female student grinded out, running her fingers through her hair.

He interrupted with a soft clap. "Alright! Our next appointment is in an hour. So in the meantime, we should get some lunch. Where to, you three?"

"Why ask what you already know, Sensei?" Kakashi cut in with crossed arms and a raised brow.

The other two saddled up beside the younger Jōnin with similar expressions, and he couldn't stop himself from backing up and raising his hands. "What's with those suspicious faces, you guys?"

Obito sighed and shook his head. “Just admit that you want to see Kushina-neesan.”

“Yeah,” Rin said, rolling her eyes. “Every time you ask us to lunch, we make suggestions until you end up deciding on ramen because ‘nothing else sounds good,’” she quoted, using her fingers as emphasis.

His students cornered him, glaring up at him, and he wondered how their short statures could be so intimidating, especially when two of them were without an eye. Then again, maybe that’s what made it all the more unnerving.

Shaking his head – to rid of the current thought and as a gesture of denial – he laughed awkwardly. “Of course not. Ichiraku is practically on the other side of the village.”

A quiet mutter of “never stopped you before” from Kakashi and an annoyed huff from Rin had Minato sweat-dropping. “Hey now…”

Obito was the only one to relent on the ribbing, relieving him of the others’ attention by suddenly pushing them together, throwing out a, “Ramen it is!” before his sight twisted and mixed and molded into blots of undistinguishable colors at a nausea inducing speed, the feeling of a thousand mile drop turning his stomach- until the world was right again, a shocked Teuchi in front of him, a ladle slipping from his hand and onto the ground with a loud clang.

He turned to his right to see Obito grinning at him, Rin and Kakashi scowling at the back of the Uchiha’s head. “Was that cool or what?”

He didn’t know how to respond, still recovering from his vertigo, but his female student knew exactly how to respond. She scolded Obito. “You can’t keep doing that, Obito! What if someone besides Teuchi-san and Kushina-neesan had been here? And when did you even get the hand of this transportation ability? Don’t think I forgot the day we were almost skewered by trees because of that ability! I swear, if you exhausted yourself last night to improve a stupid technique instead of getting some proper sleep for a trying day like today, I will end you. And I am damn sure Kakashi will help…”

She continued her tongue-lashing, but he had long since tuned out the commotion once his girlfriend’s name was mentioned, Rin’s words going through one ear and out the other as he smiled, adoring and bashful.

His Kushina was elegant, assertive and confident, fierce, smart, fearless, and kindhearted and oh he could go on with the descriptors because there wasn’t a word that was able to encompass all that she was, and then there was her fiery red hair that flared all around her when she was enraged and those gorgeous amethyst gems for eyes of hers, glowing and sparkling and so warm and her plush pink lips that were currently forming his name in a question and… oh… “Y-Yes?”

He cursed himself out for stumbling like the idiot she probably thought he was. They had been dating for a few years now, and still it seemed like the day he realized she was the love of his life, because he continued making a fool of himself in front of her.

“What’s going on? You all appeared out of nowhere.”

This was the first time since before the bridge mission that he had seen her, and for a third time – the second retelling was headache inducing, but relaying it to his girlfriend had the opposite effect, he felt relaxed now – he explained everything, including Obito’s Mangekyō and the poignant scene of his students cuddling up to him, distressed and trembling over their near-fatal mission.

As he expected, Kushina bolted from her seat, gathering the trio beside him into a group hug, her long tresses curtaining their faces and muffling her words of comfort and affection that brought forth a loving grin from him, taking away the stress lines that had been plaguing his skin all day and yesterday.

“Minato-san, you have yet to order.”

He leaned back in surprise. Teuchi was glaring down at him, and self-preservation had him immediately ordering a shio ramen, unconsciously selecting Kushina’s favorite.

As he began eating, he listened to the conversation between his girlfriend and students, Kushina now standing upright with her hands over Obito and Kakashi’s shoulders.

“Just remember not to always rely on the Sharingan, Obito-kun.”

“Well, yeah. Someone has to show those old goats that true strength comes from the person and not just the dōjutsu.”

“Obito! You shouldn’t disrespect your elders like that.”

“They’re not exactly the senior citizens you run into on the streets, Rin. Obito’s being generous when he calls them old goats.”

“Not you too, Kakashi. Whatever happened to respecting authority?”

“I can make exceptions.”

“Ha! Finally he’s on my side! Kushina-neesan, check out the Kakashi who finally pulled the stick out of his- ow!”

“Oops, sorry. I’m blind on the left side.”

“Rin’s separating us.”

“So?”

“So you hit me on purpose, you ass.”

“So you say.”

“So I know!”

“Aww, I love it when you two fight. It’s absolutely adorable!”

“It’s not- Oi!” “You’re choking me, Neesan!” “I’m being squished here!”

Minato drowned the broth and slammed the bowl down with a satisfied sigh before he was abruptly pulled into the asphyxiating embrace.

“Get in here, Minato!”

The extreme lack of air tinged his face blue, and yet, instead of struggling away, he fell limp and relished in the warmth of Kushina’s fervid affection.

Kami, he had missed her.

 


	5. Uchiha Council Of Elders

 

“We begin today’s gathering with a demonstration of Uchiha Obito’s dōjutsu in order to confirm the information gathered by Konoha’s Council. Obito, you will activate your Sharingan,” and briefly nodding toward Kakashi, he continued, “and Hatake Kakashi will unveil your other Sharingan. Then you will activate the Mangekyō, Obito. Is this understood?”

Obito’s lax stare wandered to each elderly face that had schooled their features, though were unable to erase the distain from their eyes, and he looked into Fugaku’s calm ones, tilting his head. “I understand your instructions, however, I do hope Kakashi’s involvement will be minimal, as our dōjutsu will exhaust him once uncovered.”

He respected his clan head enough to be polite in his implicit demand, but within this room of manipulative old men and women, Kakashi was his responsibility, and he would not allow his teammate to suffer because of undue contempt. Fugaku recognized his intention, and much to the others’ chagrin, agreed.

“We merely wish to inspect the work of your medic, to ascertain the… operation, was a success, and that there will be no complications at a later date.”

The slight pause indicated his own dismay at Obito’s actions, but unlike the rest of the council, he was well-aware of Kakashi’s advancement in the Shinobi ranks, and looking back on their first face-to-face meeting, Obito knew he was intrigued by the non-Uchiha’s possible ability to master their prized dōjutsu.

Had his friend realized the importance of that shoulder touch, perhaps then he’d have been slightly less nervous – and he found this to be quite entertaining, because rarely did the genius Hatake falter from nerves, and being the other boy’s rival, his eye was trained to notice each time Kakashi’s fingers bent from anxiety- it was an obvious tell for someone usually so still – for they had an influential ally in Uchiha Fugaku, which would only aid them in the future.

“Very well,” he concurred, bowing his head.

He turned his head, abandoning his impassive look long enough to smile at Kakashi, reassuring him.

Kakashi was already up from his seat, his curled fingers steadying his weight on the table, appearing out of his depth from the negative attention that radiated from the Uchiha council, but seeing Obito’s confident beam, he straightened and joined his side.

Obito was loathed to be looked upon as a trophy for these old bastards, but defiance would be more damaging than helpful right now. With great reluctance, he allowed chakra to gather around his right eye and watched Kakashi unravel the bandages that protected him from significant chakra drain. His friend’s scarred eye was revealed to him for the first time, but seeing him look around the room with fascination told Obito that he wasn’t the only one seeing something for the first time.

He was curious to know what it was like, to view the world with a normal eye and the Sharingan, because no Uchiha could just activate one Sharingan. It was either both or none.

The thought faded to the recesses of his mind when one of the few elders with a medical background glided up to Kakashi and examined Rin’s work, setting a wrinkled hand against his open eye and concentrating. Through his dōjutsu, he was able to observe as the woman’s lavender-colored chakra followed Kakashi’s white chakra trails that were abnormally wide due to the extreme amounts being used to power the Sharingan. The light shade of purple continued flowing alongside white until it reached the back of his head, then began receding until white chakra was untouched by foreign lavender.

She stepped back and nodded sharply, returning to her seat as Kakashi reapplied the bandages, his leaking chakra fading from his sight, and for a moment, he thought the other boy would collapse, his legs quivering and his breaths coming shorter at a brisk rhythm.

He suppressed his concern in order to keep his composure. That didn’t stop him from physically leading his friend back to his seat next to Rin who reached for Kakashi’s hand under the table, offering the concern Obito was unable to show. They were given an eye smile in return.

“The medic’s work is adequate,” was the elder’s announcement once Obito stood before them again. The temptation to defend his female teammate was strong, and no matter how much he despised his emotional training as a child, it was the only thing saving him from storming out and demanding immediate disownment, an action he would end up regretting, definitely.

His team was no longer under scrutiny, but that did nothing to relieve his tension.

The beating organ in his chest seemed to smash against his rib cage as the pinwheel of his advanced Sharingan formed from the three tomoe, and though he wished it was because he had to present such indication of power in front of power-hungry fools, he knew the nervousness was an unconscious fear of the emotions he experienced under the Mangekyō’s influence.

Surrounded by his team, he had felt calm and warm as he used Kamui for their protection, and alone, he relished the buzz of intense energy that rushed from the corners of his chakra coils to the system behind his right eye, but in the presence of arrogant, selfish bastards like these, all he experienced was the nauseating feeling of hatred that curled his hands into shaking fists and twisted his face into something ugly with a glare he could never manage without the Mangekyō.

That negativity would destroy him, and he wished there was some way to conquer it, but he was too weak. He had to be stronger than this.

The changes in his facial muscles were repressed before anyone took notice, but the malevolent glare within his swirling eye was inevitably seen, and he wanted to vomit at the pleased expressions the elders shared, believing his decent into darkness was a foregone conclusion, one they could control to their benefit.

They didn’t seem to realize the hatred was directed at them specifically, unaware of his urge to annihilate them, to feel their blood drenching his clothes, covering his hands and seeping under the curves of his nails, to utterly break them as they did to other clan members in the past.

But he was distracted by Fugaku. The man stared for not even a minute, closing his eyes and holding a hand to his mouth, bowing his head to hide the deep furrow of his brow that resembled a grieving man. He reminded Obito of Mayu when she had witnessed the taint of his Mangekyō yesterday, and the image quelled his destructive thoughts, because he promised her that he would not be lost in the cycle.

His glare dwindled and then faded, and suddenly he could feel the warmth of his team’s chakra from behind, their silent support. He wasn’t weak, no, he was strong, stronger than most of the members of his clan ever could be.

Kakashi’s teary voice echoed in his ears… _don’t you dare put yourself down again!_

Those words encouraged him as the chakra behind his eye retreated, red giving way to pure black. He inhaled, fast, and gradually exhaled, as if letting out the oppressing darkness that had dragged him down further than he had ever gone.

Fugaku raised his head, having regained his composure, addressing the situation with continued indifference.

“Awakening the Mangekyō Sharingan is an honor, one this council commends you for.”

He and the elders nodded shortly, and despite believing it to be anything but an honor, Obito nodded back.

“However, the reason for today’s summons is that you have committed a grand injustice to the Uchiha clan. Uchiha Obito, do you understand the offense that I am speaking of?”

“The Sharingan is the pride of our clan,” he answered, keeping eye contact with Fugaku. “Should an outsider be given possession of the Sharingan by a member of the Uchiha clan, the person will be deemed a traitor, for they have established loyalty to the outsider, and disloyalty to the clan is an act of treason.”

Whispers were traded after his admission, and the elder sitting on Fugaku’s left spoke over them.

“You understood the meaning of this grievous offense, and yet you still gave this _boy_ ,” he spat out whilst pointing at Kakashi, “your Sharingan? Do you think yourself above the law, you reprobate?”

Fugaku held up an arm, a demand for silence. The elder backed down with reluctance, glowering.

“Although I loathe such vulgar language, Ōtajiro-san,” the clan head stated with a slight sneer, “the former is a valid question, do you not agree, Obito?”

Obito ignored the old man’s petty name-calling, directing his thoughts on an appropriate answer. The truth was, he didn’t think, or even care about consequences when asking Kakashi to accept his left eye. There was no guilt, as Rin suggested, and it had nothing to do with arrogance as the old coot assumed a moment ago. He just really wanted Kakashi to have it, but unfortunately, that simple answer would get him laughed out of the chambers.

In dealing with the council, he had to choose a more political answer, whether true or not, and in this case, his answer would be a complete lie. He had no other choice. So he crossed his arms and eased his stance to appear more unconcerned than before, ignoring the dozens of accusing stares directed at him.

“Our third teammate was kidnapped during our last mission, Uchiha-sama. The mission was to destroy the Kannabi Bridge in Kusagakure, and Kakashi and I had put aside the mission in order to rescue her.”

He was interrupted by an old woman on the left platform in the middle section. “Not surprising considering who the Hatake’s father was.”

Fugaku seemed about to interfere again, but Obito refused to keep his silence after that disparaging comment. He wouldn’t allow anybody to insult Kakashi’s father, not when he finally helped Kakashi realize how great a man Sakumo had been.

He faced the elder, grey-haired and with a constipated face like the rest, and sneered at her, deeming her less than the dirt beneath his sandals. “And considering your age and experience, I would expect you to never interrupt the person who is speaking, especially just to insult a child’s deceased parent.”

“How dare-” she began, indignant, but he cut her off.

“Hatake Kakashi is the Jōnin and team leader responsible for destroying the bridge that has given Konoha an advantage in the war, and that is all that matters, not what happened in-between.”

His rejoinder was met with angry scowls, but his clan head reached the end of his patience, evident in the fierce way he raised his hand.

“Enough. …Obito, continue.”

He bowed his head in thanks.

“As I previously stated, the mission was postponed in order to rescue our third teammate. In doing this, we established ourselves as two friends getting our friend back, and not as Shinobi retrieving an ally. Because of our changed status and my carelessness, I was indebted to Kakashi.”

“Explain the details of this debt,” his clan head ordered.

“Kakashi saved my life from an enemy ninja, and lost an eye in the process. The experience awakened my Sharingan.”

Horrid realization dawned across all three platforms, though Fugaku was smirking, which he concealed by placing a fist before his mouth. The man knew enough about him through Mikoto that he wouldn’t give Kakashi his Sharingan because of a debt. He didn’t adhere to the old institutions like the elders, but no one else in the room was aware of that.

He was beginning to realize his bluff was more effective than he expected, for the council now had a larger concern, the importance of clan customs at the expense of clan laws.

“I had a debt to repay for Kakashi saving my life, and what better way to settle my dues than an eye for an eye.”

“That is understandable,” the man on Fugaku’s right conceded. “It is disgraceful to have unpaid debts.”

“But the Sharingan as payment?” another man asked, dismayed.

“There is no law prohibiting the Uchiha clan from using our dōjutsu as payment,” a woman acknowledged, sitting beside her identical twin.

Her sister shook her head. “But giving an outsider possession of the Sharingan _is_ prohibited. Wouldn’t that cancel out something like a debt?”

“Our laws are quite specific,” Fugaku added. “However, I admit that specifics do not exist for that particular law, and even if it was to be amended in the future, Uchiha Obito would still be free from prosecution.”

“Even so,” the medic-nin from before rebuffed, “the Sharingan has never been taken from our possession until today. Not even the Hyūga and their curse marks have managed to preserve the Byakugan from the hands of outsiders. What will happen when the Hatake child is seen with the Sharingan? I’ll tell you. It will encourage everyone not of our clan that the Sharingan can be stolen with ease. We will be targeted more than we already are.”

Several elders nodded their heads in agreement, but in the very top right corner, a younger man with a few black strands in a mess of grey interjected. “Fugaku has stated truth. It is the council’s mistake for not taking loopholes into account, and using the Sharingan as payment in a debt is exactly that, a loophole. Uchiha Obito cannot legally be charged with treason.”

“Suzume-san has stated truth as well,” another old man noted, referring to the medic-nin. “The Sharingan must be reclaimed for the preservation of our dōjutsu. The Uchiha clan cannot afford the danger this situation presents to us.”

“Impossible,” declared the woman beside him. “Once payment is received, it is unable to be reclaimed. To do so would be an act of dishonor onto not just Obito, but onto the Uchiha clan as a whole.”

“Something must be done!” snapped Ōtajiro, turning in his seat to glare at Fugaku. “Under no circumstance can we disregard the issue.”

Fugaku rose to his feet, addressing him and his team. “Uchiha Obito, you and your team are excused momentarily. Wait outside the council chambers until we have come to a decision.”

His team exited first, and after glancing about the assembled elders with an apathetic glare, he followed behind them at a slower pace. When his team passed the door, his clan head called out a warning, halting him in place.

“You may know this already, Obito, but the final form of the Sharingan is classified information. Be sure your team understands the importance of keeping it to themselves.”

“You will have nothing to worry about, Uchiha-sama,” was his parting answer as he left the chamber. There was a feeling of finality when the door slammed shut, and his stomach rolled, grasping the alarming certainty that he no longer had control over the council, but he didn’t dare contort his facial muscles to match the nausea he was feeling inside. He didn’t want to worry his team more than they already were.

His sensei and Rin were both sitting on the ground with crossed legs, neither looking ready to speak.

Kakashi, though, had moved into a corner, facing the wall with his forehead pressed against it. It was a cause for concern, so rather than fretting over something that could not be changed, he joined his friend.

“Kakashi, are you okay?”

There was an inaudible mumble in response.

Obito frowned and took him by the shoulders, turning him around and bending his head to see Kakashi’s downturned eye, reiterating the question but whispering. “Kakashi… are you okay?”

Silence.

Sighing, he pushed his shoulders down so they were seated on their knees and nearly the same height. He didn’t enjoy standing over his friend as if interrogating him, not when Kakashi appeared unusually troubled.

He took a guess. “Was it that old bat’s comment about Sakumo? You shouldn’t listen to those bastards. They didn’t know your father like you did.”

Finally there was a reaction. Kakashi covered his bandaged eye, the uncovered one unable to meet his own eye. He mumbled again at a volume he could make out.

“It wasn’t… really… a debt… was it…?”

At first, Obito didn’t remember the commotion he caused in the council chambers, but when he did, he blurted out, “No, of course not! Why would- no, I promise. There was no debt, really.” He grasped Kakashi’s hand, enclosing it with both his own and smiling. “You believe me, don’t you?”

“I do!” Kakashi exclaimed in a raised voice, recoiling from the resonating echo, and glanced towards Rin and Minato.

He stopped the head motion, holding Kakashi’s cheeks to keep their eye contact. “Forget about them for now. I have to know you understand.”

“I do believe you,” he assured him. “It’s just… you’re going through all this trouble, and it would be so much easier if you were to take the Sharingan back.”

Obito shook his head, though he kept his smile. He never thought someone would refuse a gift as powerful as the Uchiha clan’s dōjutsu, but Kakashi was proving to be an obstinate exception.

“I really wanted you to have it,” he said, not quite sure what else to say. “Why is it so hard for you to accept that?”

“Because I don’t want you to die!”

The shouted confession surprised him, and confused him even more. “What are you talking about?”

Kakashi pulled his hand from his grasp, sliding fingers through his hair. “There is nothing rational about how I’m feeling.”

“Then tell me,” he pleaded. "I need to know why you're so upset."

His fretting hands fell to his lap and he stared down.

“My tantō was given to me by my father… the day before he killed himself,” Kakashi admitted. “I didn’t remember until the old woman mentioned him, and with them talking endlessly about the Sharingan, I… it’s stupid, but I can’t stop from thinking that…” he trailed off, looking ashamed, and knowing where his friend’s thoughts had wandered, finished his sentence.

“…that I’ll die because I gave you the Sharingan.”

There was a slow nod. “I’ve already lost my father. I don’t think I could survive losing another person close to me.”

He purposely delayed his reply.

“You really are a Bakashi.”

Kakashi snapped his head up, his eye wide.

“That _is_ an irrational thought, that part is true, but to take back the Sharingan is absolutely ridiculous. Kakashi, if you don’t want the people precious to you dying, then train yourself to use the Sharingan’s full potential. Use it to become stronger, faster, and smarter. Take advantage of what I have given you, a dōjutsu every other village would kill to possess, and then you won’t have to worry so much about losing us. You got it?”

Perhaps he said too much, but Kakashi’s thick brain needed to be bashed in with a barrage of words. A fault they shared, now that he was thinking about it.

Kakashi was silent, but the dark emotions shadowing his face steadily receded. He nodded. “You’re right. And I apologize.”

“For what?” he asked with a baffled blink.

“You said to never ask for the Sharingan back no matter what.” Kakashi then added in a cheerful tone, “Poor etiquette, remember?”

Actually, he had forgotten all about that.

A mischievous grin formed as an idea came to mind. “You know, I think punishment is in order,” he uttered, slow and foreboding.

The other boy blanched. “What…?”

“Your punishment is…” he raised his arms, fingers spread and palms facing inward, “…to hug me.”

“Ooh, no. No way in hell.” Kakashi tried escaping, pushing up with his hands, but Obito tackled him before his knees could follow, wrapping his arms around a thin torso and forcing the top of Kakashi’s head under his chin, squeezing with all his might. Smaller hands pushed on his chest then pounded at his shoulder blades, muffled yells demanding for freedom.

“Suffer for your poor etiquette, little Kakashi!”

The suffocating Jōnin managed to turn his head and rage. “I’m not little, you’re just older than I am! Just you wait-”

“My little Kashi-kun!” he interrupted, moving them side-to-side with a slight shift of his knees as his top half thrust itself back and forth. “You will never escape from me!”

A feminine giggle sounded from above them and they looked up, finding Rin staring down at them, smiling a toothy grin.

“What’re you doing to him, Obito?”

“My little Kashi-kun has committed the worst offense, Rin-chan. This is his punishment.”

His squinty eye had her bursting in amusement.

Kakashi used the distraction, jerking back and stumbling to his feet, gasping for air against the wall.

“I think your little Kashi-kun’s been punished enough,” she teased.

“You two are despicable,” Kakashi breathed, scowling behind his mask.

Obito looked between his two friends and smiled, relieved to have some time away from those stifling chambers and old bastards, a time to let out his emotions and be himself, and not the emotionless shell of a person defined by the emblem on his back.

He appreciated that time more than ever when Fugaku motioned them inside, but stopped Rin and his sensei from entering along with him and Kakashi.

Obito offered them an apologetic smile. “Kakashi and I will be just fine,” he assured and led his nervous teammate in with a hand on his arm, a reassuring touch that lingered until dozens of eyes honed in on them, some neutral and others disapproving for whatever final decisions that had been made.

Fugaku settled in his seat. “This council has reached an agreement.” He glanced to the papers in front of him and began again. “Now, there will be due changes within law to prevent another incident such as this, but since a revision will be after the fact, you are unable to be indicted for treason. However, though the council is understanding of the debt you had fulfilled, Obito, we cannot consider a lack of consequence. Therefore, Uchiha Obito, you are officially evicted from the Uchiha compound, which means the Uchiha clan will no longer be responsible for your standard of living. You have until the end of this week to vacate your apartment.”

He had expected a worse outcome, honestly. He could survive without the clan’s support as many other orphaned Shinobi did, and if he struggled at any time, he knew Mayu would help him out.

He raised his chin. “Understood, Uchiha-sama.”

The inside of his elbow was suddenly seized by a tight grip.

As the eyebrows of the elders rose, his eye wandered to his friend, who watched him in concern. Maintaining an indifferent countenance, he patted the top of Kakashi’s hand with his thumb that was out of sight from the council, and then pried Kakashi’s fingers from his sleeve. He hated being cold like this, but it would probably be best for them to appear distant with each other. The last thing they needed was the council realizing the debt excuse was a lie.

Kakashi seemed to recognize that, dismissing Obito with an annoyed glare and looking back at the council, a bored look on his face.

Fugaku continued. “As for Suzume-san’s concern regarding Hatake Kakashi and the safety of the Sharingan, we settled for a decision that will solve the problem and avoid bringing dishonor to the clan.” He paused for a good while, and then announced the council’s ruling, a bit hesitant as he addressed the Jōnin.

“Hatake Kakashi, as you are in possession of the most protected dōjutsu in Konoha, you have been declared an ally of the Uchiha and are required to wear the Uchiwa fan insignia in order to mark relations with our clan. This will ensure the Sharingan remains safe from the expectation that its protection has been compromised. Obito, you will ensure he follows this requirement. Are there any objections, Kakashi, or do you understand the council’s stipulation?”

Obito sucked in a breath from disbelieving shock, and beside him, Kakashi let out a choked, "Understood."

When they were standing in front of Rin and Minato, the council chambers behind them emptied of elders and the clan head, Kakashi looked up at him with an ashen, clammy face and trembled.

"Was I… was I just made an honorary Uchiha?" was his quiet, distant sounding question.

Obito stumbled over words that lacked all sense, and eventually, he stopped and said, "I… guess so."

“Okay.”

The simple statement had him double-take. “What…?” he muttered.

No answer was given.

Kakashi’s eye glazed over, his pupil dilating as his body sagged and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.

Obito panicked.

“Kakashi…!”

 


	6. Peaceful Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use one Japanese word for a place in Konoha, rakuen, which just means paradise.

 

_“Kakashi…?”_

_“Bakashi! Wake up already!”_

_“Yelling doesn’t help anything, Obito!”_

_“Look who’s talking! Anyway, you’re the one who said he just fainted. He should be awake by now.”_

_“He was probably really shocked. It’ll take a bit longer.”_

_“Well longer takes too long!”_

Kakashi stirred as two loud, familiar voices cut through the fog of unconsciousness, and after the latest shout, moaned, covering his ears. His teammates called out to him again in surprise. With resignation, he opened his eye and met gazes with hazel and obsidian, a white ceiling above them.

Of all places, he had to be in the hospital. Dammit.

“Stop talking for a bit, please,” was his muttered request, a glare enforcing it.

They laughed, an embarrassed, guilty filled one, before silencing, pulling back and returning to their stools on each side of his bed. Free from their hovering, he lifted himself up by the elbows and hunched forward, leaning his forehead against his entangled fingers.

Recalling his last moments before passing out, he held in a cry from the built-in flood of emotions, mainly anger at the council that had demanded for him to be branded with their clan symbol. Everything his friend had said about them was true, those arrogant, possessive old bastards. He may have understood the reasoning behind it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. The other source of anger was Obito’s punishment, because of course they wouldn’t let Obito leave without _something_ to show their displeasure, and now his friend was homeless, and as a Chūnin during war, he wasn’t exactly paid a decent amount of money for an apartment. Obito may not have minded being separated from the rest of his family, but Kakashi did care whether Obito had a place to live or not.

A sudden, nail-on-chalkboard noise sounded on his right. He flinched and then glared at Obito who had been squirming on his seat, causing the metal ends to scratch the tiled floors. The other boy froze before waving his hands frantically for a few seconds, then placed a finger over his sheepish grin, shushing.

Kakashi sighed, shaking his head. “What?” he asked sharply.

“You okay?” Obito leaned forward with a scrutinizing stare, as if searching for an incoming lie.

He wasn’t lying when he answered, his tone dull. “Fine.”

“You sure, Kakashi?”

He glanced over at Rin and eye-smiled, though his mouth remained a displeased line under the mask. “I’m sure.”

His teammates jumped to their feet when he shifted and slid off the bed, relieved to find his clothes had not been replaced by a hospital gown. That would have made his day worse than it already was, being brought to this prison of illness and death. He bent down and retrieved his sandals, slipping them on while casually mentioning Obito’s living situation.

“So, where will you be staying now that the Uchiha clan won’t be covering your finances?”

Obito shrugged, unconcerned in his reply. “I’ll figure it out. I’ve got a week before they boot me out of the compound.”

“You could stay with my family for a while,” Rin suggested.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Kakashi looked between them, nerves from his own idea leaving him struggling with the words he wanted to say. It should not have been this difficult, he internally complained, but it was. Since his father’s death, he had lived on his own, Pakkun being his only companion, and so inviting another person into his space… was probably the hardest thing he had ever done.

“Obito,” he began hesitantly, gaining the other boy’s attention, “I want you to live with me.”

Obito stared at him, shocked, and even a bit concerned.

“This isn’t your fault, Kaka-”

“I know,” he cut in. “But I want to do this for you, and besides, I…” he faltered, bowing his head and urging himself to continue. “I wouldn’t mind the company… and we’d split half the rent so none of us are paying in full, and that way, all utilities are both of ours to use.” There was only silence in response, and taking a deep breath, he looked his friend in the eye again to see Obito smiling.

“What?”

“You keep surprising me, is all,” Obito confessed, and held out a hand. “You won’t regret this later?” he added teasingly.

Kakashi rolled his eye, but couldn’t stop his own smile as he grasped Obito’s extended hand.

“I won’t,” he promised.

Outside the hospital, the boys of Team Minato waved to their departing teammate.

When she was out of view, Kakashi asked, “Where did Sensei go?”

“Well, after I told him and Rin about the council’s decision, he was taken to the Hokage for urgent business by someone of the ANBU division. I’m guessing it’s about a mission only he’s qualified for.”

“Was this before or after you took me here?” he questioned with a reproachful glower.

Obito denied having anything to do with that decision. “Hey, it was Rin’s idea, not mine. And you know how she gets when she wants one of us to be admitted into the hospital.”

Aware of the girl's threatening tendencies with health related issues, Kakashi let it slide and addressed a concern he was tempted to ignore and willfully forget. “Speaking of your clan’s council, do I really have to wear that symbol?” He pointed towards Obito’s back with a thumb.

“Not like how I wear it,” the Uchiha assured, waving his concern off. “To them, wearing the Uchiwa fan on our backs is a sign of loyalty and honor, which only those of Uchiha blood are allowed to _proudly_ -" he drawled derisively- "display. All you need to wear is a small crest on one of your shoulders. That way, it only marks you as an ally of the clan.”

Obito abruptly took his hand and forced him to follow as he continued explaining.

“You aren’t required to follow our rules or anything like that, and this doesn’t mean you’re gonna be respected or treated kindly by my clan. It just means that whoever sees you with that Sharingan won’t think it’s suddenly easy for anyone to steal our dōjutsu. A countermeasure, if you will.”

“I get that,” he stated after a pause, looking around the apartment area they entered. He narrowed in on their clasped hands. “Ano… Obito, I think I know my own way to the apartment… that is mine… which I currently pay for… which makes it mine… which means I know _exactly_ where it is…”

“What are you mumbling about, Bakashi?”

Kakashi scowled and halted in the dirt road, causing Obito to stumble backwards, hopping twice to regain his footing and returning the scowl with an indignant shout.

“What was that for?!”

He jerked their connected hands meaningfully, a deadpanned expression on his face.

Obito stared, uncomprehending, until he recoiled and gave an awkward laugh, separating their hands.

“Sorry!” he apologized, a blush of embarrassment reddening his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his head, and then pointed towards their intended apartment complex. “We-Well, off we go!”

Kakashi watched him walk away robotically, snickering at the other’s comical reactions, but he didn’t follow, an epiphany holding him in place.

Despite being teammates for several years, he had only recently noticed how comfortable the Uchiha was with physical contact, and now, it donned on him that Obito’s touch was nowhere near as discomforting as everyone else’s. When Rin hugged him or his sensei patted his shoulder, he was anxious and fought not to shy away, but he wasn’t agitated like that by Obito. Being pulled along, his hand encased in another, it felt… normal, as if they’d been friends even before their time at the Academy.

“Kakashi?”

He viewed Obito in a new light and smiled, an expression the Uchiha must have noticed since he returned the smile, albeit a perplexed one.

“What’s up?”

Kakashi simply said, “Thanks for being my friend, Obito,” and walked ahead to his apartment, ignoring the Uchiha’s strident questioning.

 

* * *

 

Obito, for what seemed the hundredth time, sneaked a peek at Kakashi, still trying to figure out his odd behavior as they leaped across rooftops to Mayu’s shop, the Jōnin’s shirts under his arm.

He was unusually chipper for someone who was so… well, _Kakashi_. And what was up with the friend comment anyways? Not that he didn’t appreciate the sentiment, but still… it was _Kakashi_.

 _Maybe it’s just another perk to not having a stick up your ass_ , he considered, amused by the thought.

A grin crossed his mouth with a slight chuckle escaping.

“I have the strangest urge to punch you right now. Is there a reason for that, Obito?”

He exclaimed a resounding “No!” as he wiped the damning mirth from his expressive face, going for baffled innocence. Obito looked back at him. “Maybe you should agree to one of Gai’s sparring offers, you know, to release some tension,” he advocated, hoping to distract Kakashi’s suspicions from himself.

The other boy narrowed his eye, clearly doubtful of his answer, but had to let it go when Obito motioned Kakashi to drop down, having arrived at their destination.

Before his friend could enter the shop, Obito grasped his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing bad,” he uttered quickly. “Just remember what I said at your apartment.”

“Don’t say a word until she addresses me, I know,” was the sighed out recitation.

They nodded to each other, Kakashi’s more sarcastic than confirming.

Once inside, he called for the senior Uchiha, but he didn’t anticipate being tossed aside, landing head-first onto the wooden flooring with Kakashi’s clothes scattering around him as Mayu’s buoyant and speedy greetings overpowered his pained keening.

“You must be Kakashi-kun! Obito-kun’s told me everything about you and what happened, but he never said how adorably handsome you were, though a bit on the short side, but that’ll change over time. Anyways, call me Mayu-bāchan. Obito-kun does, even if it takes a few reminders still. Now come with me. We’ll have some tea while you and Obito-kun explain what happened this morning. And Obito-kun, why are you on the floor? Get up already.”

He jolted up from his collapsed position and cried out, a shirt over his head, “You’re the one who did this to me, bāchan!! How could you be so cruel to me? Do you like Kakashi more than me now?!”

His blackened vision cleared as his head was freed. He met eyes with Kakashi who had an incredulous eyebrow raised, Mayu stifling her spiteful giggles with both hands.

Obito pursed his bottom lip and glared accusingly at his senior.

She tapped his forehead with her knuckles and headed to the backroom. “Don’t be so dramatic,” she dismissed.

Kakashi watched her leave alongside him and asked, “Is Mayu-san always like this? I was expecting someone a bit more… Uchiha-ish.”

There were definitely issues with his clan if their surname had become an actual adjective, he mused shortly.

Obito rubbed the bruise atop his head and sighed, shrugging. “She’s being perfectly normal, though I hadn’t expected her to treat you as she does me.” He winced at one sore spot and backtracked. “Or at least, how she _usually_ treats me.”

He heard a strangled cough, and flipping his head to the side, he found Kakashi trying to hold in… _laughter_?

His cheeks puffed, indignant when the sniggers became full blown laughter. He waved a fist at the other boy and screeched, “Quit that, Bakashi!”

Yet, he couldn’t help but enjoy the liberating sound of cheer from his best friend- and Kakashi really was his best friend, not that he’d tell Kakashi that any time soon. He would probably have a breakdown from those words considering how difficult it had been asking Obito to just be a friend.

Allowing his scowl to morph into a true smile, he shook his head and joined in, wrapping an arm around Kakashi’s shoulders and curling the shorter form into his chest, basking in the shakes of their shared amusement.

 _If only this could last_ , he silently wished as the happiest moments of today resurfaced to the forefront of his thoughts, _but with the war still going on_ , _I’ll just have to enjoy what I can_.

 

* * *

 

Kakashi mourned his signature outfit, painfully watching every left sleeve being stitched by an Uchiwa fan patch, Mayu’s sowing technique swift but far too slow in his opinion. He wasn’t even listening to her and Obito discussing the events of this morning, counting each time the needle pierced through one grey material after another – it was only four shirts, but it seemed like fifty – _…one hundred twenty-one, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-three, one hundred twenty-four, one hundred twenty-five…_

The two-sided conversation was white noise.

“I knew you’d be fine, Obito-kun, but I never imagined this outcome.”

“Do you think they have an ulterior motive, bāchan?”

“I cannot be certain, and I guarantee that my fellow elders would be unwilling to discuss the situation with me. They have much distain for our close relationship.”

“Fugaku has proven to be on my and Kakashi’s side. Is there a chance he’d tell us anything?”

“Perhaps. Do not have high hopes for Fugaku-kun, however. He is our clan head, and is thus bound to secrecy laws by the council. You are aware of his strict, law-abiding personality, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. He used to remind me of Bakashi.”

The pronunciation of his butchered name caught Kakashi’s attention, forgetting the stream of numbers when he noticed Obito smirking right at him. The Uchihas’ exchange registered just as his brazen teammate began speaking again, not giving him a chance at verbal retribution.

“So we have no choice but to wait it out.”

“I am afraid so,” Mayu replied, and snipped the thread of his last shirt, folding and placing it on top of the other three and handing the small pile to him. “All finished, Kakashi-kun.”

He offered his grudging gratitude. “Thank you, Mayu…” he trailed off for a moment and added, “…bāchan,” uncomfortably. That was the correct honorific, the old woman’s pleased smile giving him much relief. After witnessing Obito’s kiss with the floor, he didn’t want to be subjected to her might.

When they were preparing to leave minutes later, the senior Uchiha handed Obito a few sealing scrolls with a brief explanation, “For when you’re ready to move,” and then pushed them out the door.

“Pleasant woman,” he commented.

Obito scoffed. “Only when she wants to be.”

 

* * *

 

The week before Obito’s deadline was a busy one.

Team Minato, without their blond sensei, arrived back at Konoha from their third C-rank mission in a row. The few breaks they managed to fit into their schedule had been spent sleeping or eating nutrition bars and soldier pills, an unhealthy diet that was better than abstaining from food altogether in the quick pacing of mission handouts.

While scouting the areas they were assigned, they realized, despite the destruction of Kannabi Bridge, the war was still going strong. Shinobi from Kumo and Kiri were robust in appearance, weapons at the ready and without physical or chakra exhaustion present. Iwa-nin were scarce, however, seeming to have pulled back from the main fighting, and as one of their vital supply lines were demolished, there was no doubt Iwagakure had recalled their active shinobi, regrouping and creating new strategies. If nothing else, the mission that had nearly ripped Team Minato apart allowed Konoha some recuperation time for its own shinobi now that the main enemy village was at a standstill.

Of course, that didn’t mean they were free to laze around. Higher leveled missions were at a first time low since the war began, which caused C and D ranks to skyrocket, and with their team still containing two Chūnin, they were given the brunt of scouting and retrieval missions. Their sensei had been assigned elsewhere.

Before, these missions were simple with minimal problems, but now, both Kakashi and Obito had an exploitable weakness, one that could not be overcome after a couple C-ranks, and Rin’s significant chakra drain this last mission had reminded the two that training was a necessity, not that the war allowed for such.

“Sorry about this, Rin.”

Rin stilled her harsh breathing as two apologetic eyes settled on her pale face. She put her hands up and smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Obito. And you as well, Kakashi. Besides…” disappointment weighted her down as she continued with a sad tinge to her upturned lips, “the amount of chakra I have is pathetic. I need just as much training as you two- a lot more, really.”

Obito shook his head vehemently. “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re awesome, not pathetic at all!”

Kakashi nodded while handing a scroll to the gate guards. He brushed shoulders with Obito and crossed his arms. “Obito’s right, as much as I hate to say those words.” The other boy scowled at that. “Not many shinobi potentials decide on a medical profession, and Konoha is short on healers which is detrimental to our forces. Even registered shinobi do not have the potential or passion to become medical ninja. What you do, Rin, is something to be proud of.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Obito cheered in agreement. “That was a perfect speech, Bakashi.”

“Somebody has to be great at it,” was the combative retort.

The group of three began walking into the hustle and bustle of their village, the young Uchiha growling. “You always ruin the best moments!”

Between them, Rin huffed a brief laugh and wrapped her arms around theirs, interrupting the argument. “How can I ever insult myself with my boys here to compliment me all the time?”

Obito ruffled his hair, a bashful grin crossing his flushed face. “You’re embarrassing us, Rin.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kakashi mumbled, a statement contradicting his reddened ears.

His teammates smirked at him knowingly, but as they entered the dining area of Konoha, Obito unraveled his arm from Rin’s and swooned, his hands folding under his chin with a sparkling eye.

“Yes! How did I never notice this?”

Rin and Kakashi shared a roll of eyes after a fleeting glimpse towards the sign, “ _Dango Rakuen,”_ of a newly built restaurant, explaining the boy’s captivation.

She sighed and clapped Obito’s shoulder. “You wanna go in?” Rin needlessly asked.

He turned his head, sharp and excited, his mouth wide and drool dripping from the sides as he nodded vigorously.

Kakashi strolled up to his side and closed the gaping mouth with his fist. “At least pretend to be a civilized human being, Obito.”

Credit to the Uchiha’s obsession, he practically floated inside without reacting to Kakashi’s remark.

“He’s gone,” Rin muttered, walking into the restaurant.

Kakashi followed, hands in his pockets while saying, “Typical Obito.” But as he stepped inside, he had an apprehensive realization.

In the back of the new establishment, right behind the ordering counter and lengthy menus that hung from the ceiling, their peers were gathered around conversing with each other, Gai’s voice particularly boisterous and audible despite being far from the entrance. He thanked his luck the group of shinobi had yet to see him and his team. The last thing he wanted was for everyone to interrogate him about his hitai-ate covered eye- if Gai hadn’t already divulged that bit of information. And worse was them all seeing the Uchiwa fan patch on his shoulder ( _civilians did enough staring as it was_ ). More questions he didn’t want to answer.

Rin’s cliché reassurance five days ago exacerbated his opinion about it. He was feeling like someone who just got urinated on by a dog marking its territory, no offense to Pakkun, of course.

 _It could have been worse, my ass_ , he thought, irritated.

While Obito was fawning over the extensive menu, Kakashi shuffled up next to him and tugged at his sleeve for attention. “Obito, I want to go somewhere else,” he demanded.

Rin, who had been admiring the dim lights and soothing atmosphere, looked at him. “What’s the matter?”

“Everyone is here,” Kakashi spat. “I am _not_ dealing with that.”

She made a noncommittal hum and checked each table in sight before lifting herself on her toes and twisting to peer between the counter and menus, finding the sharp purple spikes of Anko’s ponytail and Asuma’s smoke trail, and suddenly, there was a deafening declaration of youth, and considering the volume of Gai’s voice, Rin was not quite sure how she missed their peers’ presence, or perhaps, Kakashi had an ingrain awareness of the spandex-wearing Chūnin. It’s not as if _she_ was the person always being propositioned for a match of some variety.

“You’re right. They’re all in the back.”

“Who cares,” Obito dismissed. “We’ll ignore them. Easy. Now let’s order already!” A rumble from his stomach cemented his resolve to stay in this place of paradise. The Jōnin’s objections would have to be ignored for once.

But it wasn’t that easy, Kakashi knew. They would be surrounded within seconds if caught, and with his desperation intensifying, he bowed his head and clung to Obito’s jacket using both his hands. He heard Rin mumble his name, a bewildered tone, as he weakly jerked the clothing in his grasp and pleaded.

“Obito, please…?”

The Uchiha’s uncovered eyebrow rose. He bent his head and froze at the face in front of him, a dash of pink spreading along his cheeks. His first thought was: _that is so not fair_ , followed by: _how can someone like Kakashi do this to me?_ Then he tried pulling back, whimpering.

“Rin, help me…”

Rin wrapped her arms around his neck and peered over his shoulder, tucking her knees into his sides so he would automatically hold her weight as she took in her other teammate’s expression that affected Obito so. A hushed squeal escaped her, for Kakashi could really be adorable when he needed to be, his visible eye glistening with a suspicious dampness and a pout that was outlined by his mask, urging her to do as he was demanding.

She hesitated, but as seconds ticked by, Rin cracked. “We could always come back tomorrow.”

“But-but… dango! So many choices!” Obito cried out, his eye darting from one teammate to the menus and then to his other teammate continuously, grimacing at Rin’s increasing weight while flinching from Kakashi’s manipulating guise of boyish innocence, his mouth drying at the prospect of losing the chance at one of the best sweets in all of Konoha.

None of this would be happening if Kakashi wasn’t against being friendly to everyone but him and Rin, and Gai was too intense and hyperactive for the masked Jōnin’s patience. There was also his “Eternal Rival” and “Youth” fixation that completely turned Kakashi away, and really, he thought Gai would have learned to go about challenging his teammate like a normal person. But then, he wouldn’t be Maito Gai, would he?

“Kakashi, my Eternal Rival! How wonderful it is to see you!”

His internal subject’s over-the-top greeting forced him back to reality, both Rin and Kakashi still clinging to him, but with the latter looking frustrated for not fleeing while they had the chance.

Team Minato could only turn their heads to the side, Rin’s chin atop the crown of Obito’s head, not just finding a fist pumping Gai, but their former classmates watching them with expressions that ranged from confusion to surprise, reactions not entirely unwarranted, for Kakashi had long ago isolated himself from his peers, and though Obito and Rin were childhood friends, neither had been quite at ease with intimacy as they currently were.

A considerable amount of tears had been shed during the Kannabi mission, and it wrought out truths they were reluctant to admit out of fear or pride, developing a level of trust the young trio had never imagined to achieve.

Admitting her crush and being rejected allowed Rin to share her attention between her teammates, gaining two best friends she’d cherish for all eternity. She could fight alongside Kakashi without a little voice haunting her innermost thoughts, wondering if that would be the day the mission became more important than her and Obito. Emotionally, she was stronger and more confident in herself, blessed with Obito’s enthusiastic encouragement and Kakashi’s quiet support.

For Obito, knowing he was the heart of Team Minato by Kakashi’s own admission mellowed his temperament. There was no longer an intense desire to prove himself worthy of recognition, which had been aided by his successful confrontation with the Uchiha council. He was now quick to name Kakashi his best friend rather than a rival, which improved their once-antagonistic relationship, and because of that balance of friendship between Rin and Kakashi, his feelings for Rin were steadily devolving into something less obsessive – a change he would remain ignorant of for quite a while still.

Kakashi had matured the most, realizing how important Rin and Obito had become during their years as a team and wishing it hadn’t taken Obito nearly dying for him to finally understand that. These past few days were a glimpse into what could have been three years ago, for not only was he comfortable around Obito, he now welcomed Rin’s casual touches and tight hugs, and he didn’t have to worry about Rin thinking his willingness to be touched or spoken to was anything but a sign of friendship. And as proven moments ago, he was neither ashamed nor afraid to break away from his usual, reticent self.

When the young trio fought together, they were equals, trusting each other to always have their backs, Rin covering for Kakashi and Obito when an enemy-nin attempted to take advantage of their blind spots. In the midst of battle, they traded opponents better suited to their attack strategies in seconds, no verbal cues given, and in the darkness of evening, the trio would curl together protectively, sides pressed against each other as one remained conscious and on guard for possible ambushes.

They were one body, one mind, and if Minato had witnessed his team’s advanced teamwork, he would have been a proud sensei.

“A team group hug!?” Gai exclaimed, and faced Genma and Ebisu with arms spread wide. “Let’s follow suit, my fellow teammates!”

Ebisu fiddled with his shades, pointedly staring at the ceiling with his body turned away, while Genma sneered, muttering, “How ‘bout no,” as he walked behind Raidō as a shield, reaching into his pocket for a senbon.

The spandex wearer retreated into a corner, dramatically sobbing into his knees.

Kakashi sweatdropped and began slamming his forehead against Obito’s chest, blocking out the Uchiha’s protest. “This- is all- your- fault- Obito!”

He sighed, rolling his eye. “Kakashi, would you stop that?”

Rin giggled and tightened her grip, choking him. “It’s what you deserve for choosing food over your own teammate,” she teased, singing in a high-pitched tone.

“Mou…” Obito groaned, struggling in place.

He decided to release his grip on Rin’s legs, and then pressed his palms against Kakashi’s shoulders, pushing him back. Her crutch gone, Rin squealed as she plummeted to the floor on her bottom. She massaged her backside as Kakashi attached himself to Obito’s wrists, staving his own fall.

“You two are evil,” Obito hissed through clenched teeth.

Team Minato were in their own little world, missing everyone’s dazed faces. They were quite the spectacle, the antisocial Kakashi interacting with his team in such a flamboyant manner, the meek Rin out of her shell, cheeky and brash, and the noisy, dead-last Obito unusually composed. Even odder was the lack of hostility between him and Kakashi, and their previous exchange was mere banter compared to the ridicule from the Academy days.

The first to snap was Anko, who stomped towards Kakashi and Obito, yelling, “Enough of this,” and shoved them apart, a nasty scowl directed at the Uchiha. She pointed a finger at him. “What did you do to Kakashi?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t do a thing to Kakashi,” Obito calmly answered, slapping the offending digit away from him. “Besides, why do you assume anything is my fault?”

A mischievous laugh filled the room, attention diverting to Rin. She stuck her tongue out at Anko. “Hohohoho, it’s kind of hilarious that you’re blaming Obito when Kashi-kun was the one to run off and then suddenly come back and- mmph!” Rin swung her arms in a frantic motion, her words stifled by Kakashi’s hand.

“The less they know, the better,” he whispered in her ear, keeping a secure hold on her running mouth.

“Mmm phmm mmurr urmm mmm.”

From the group of Chūnin, Ibiki slid a palm across his silver strands. “Mitarashi-chan should learn not to pry into other people’s affairs.”

Hayate glanced to his senior teammate and agreed. “What happens in their team is none of our business. However…” his gaze wandered to the intriguing patch on Kakashi’s left shoulder, “…I admit that even I cannot completely resist the temptation of curiosity.”

“Tss.” Ibiki shook his head. “From what little Gai has told us, I’ll go for ignorance.”

“Smart choice, over all,” Hayate commented, nodding.

Back in the circle of commotion, Rin broke free from Kakashi, only to be manhandled to a table in the far left corner of the establishment by Anko and Kurenai. “Why’d you drag me over here? I was hoping to have a nice lunch with my team.”

“Forget lunch!” Anko snapped. “I want to know why Gai is telling everyone that Kakashi has a Sharingan, by Obito no less. What the hell happened?”

Kurenai blocked her friend’s face from view with a hand, speaking in a softer tone compared to Anko’s harsh one. “I’m just wondering why you called Kakashi “Kashi-kun”. Is there something you’re not telling us, Rin?”

“My question’s more important than dating gossip, Kurenai!”

“Well, unlike you, I prefer topics that don’t involve Konoha’s ongoing war!”

Listening to their bickering, Rin sunk in her seat. She was beginning to remember why she had boys as her best friends and not girls, and she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the fact that there were less kunoichi than shinobi.

Meanwhile, Obito and Kakashi were just glad to be anywhere but where Rin was, not that they’d let her hear that. She'd probably strike them down with a well-placed jap to the back of their spines.

Asuma had the courage to ask what everyone wanted to know. “Gai told us an interesting story about you two. Care to share?”

Kakashi glared at his teammate who scratched the back of his head nervously, letting out an awkward cough.

Obito was abruptly smacked upside the head.

“Oooowwww…!”

The cry was ignored.

“Asuma, not to be rude, but there are some things that should never be shared. This is one of them.”

“All I did was give him my Sharingan and now he’s an ally of my cla- ow!” He held his head for a second time. “Oh, come on, that was minimal information, Bakashi!”

Kakashi felt no regret when he assaulted his friend for a third time.

“Don’t call me that!”

And now that he was thinking about it, hitting Obito was _great_ therapy.

When he was through with Obito, the Uchiha wouldn’t ever be in the mood for dango again.

 

 


	7. Bloodshed

“Where will you be staying, Obito?”

He was distracted from the depressing sight of his barren apartment, turning to face the clan head of the Uchiha whose arms were folded with a typical scowl that made him look more cross than a lobster being boiled alive. Obito was tempted to slap himself after grasping that impossible simile, but seeing a familiar face peeking from behind Fugaku’s leg, he pushed aside the urge and bent down with a grin.

“Hey there, Chibi-kun.” He offered the young Uchiha Itachi an encouraging grin and an open hand, the pull at his cheeks tightening when the child accepted his hand with tiny fingers and a shy, “Good evening, Obito-san.”

“I would appreciate if you would not refer to my son in such familiar terms.”

The older Uchiha’s dour tone sent Itachi back to the cover of his father’s legs and ruined Obito’s pleasant mood. He got back to his feet, smirking but without any real emotion behind it as he countered with false goodwill. “As Mikoto-sama was not the only Uchiha to change diapers, I figured familiarity was a given. Would you not agree, Uchiha-sama?”

The corners of Fugaku’s mouth twitched upward in a brief smile, but it was hidden by a heavy sneer that scrunched the left side of his nose. His dark eyes, however, lacked the distain that was plastered over the man’s face.

Obito let out a breathless sigh, not sure whether to be amazed or peeved by the clan head’s need for masks even without an audience present. They would probably not see each other for a while, and he had been hoping to leave the Uchiha compound on a good note with Fugaku, but the man was dead set on regarding him as nothing more than a nuisance he was finally ridding his hands of.

“As for what you asked me before,” he began, addressing Fugaku’s former question, “I’ll be staying with Kakashi.”

Itachi stepped forward again, his expressive, wide eyes filled with disappointment. “Are you leaving the village, Obito-san?”

“Of course not, Chibi-kun,” he assured, sitting on his knees and smiling. “But you see, I did something our elders don’t approve of, so I have to leave the compound, but I promise to visit once in a while. As long as your father agrees, of course.”

He and Itachi stared up at Fugaku who merely crossed his arms, closing his eyes whilst tilting his head.

A silent yes, he realized, when the little Uchiha tugged the front of his jacket and asked, “Tomorrow then?”

“Well, not that soon,” he said, wincing at Itachi’s well-disguised pout that only few could identify by the slightest suction of his bottom lip. He had no inkling of how Fugaku and Mikoto became resistant to its powers, because at that moment, he really wanted to say he would be back first thing in the morning.

The boy’s father recognized Obito’s struggle. He covered his son’s shoulder with a hand and shook his head once.

The pout faded, leaving a sulking Uchiha heir.

Obito offered one last smile and a few pats on Itachi’s head before standing, giving a final, sad glance at the apartment he had lived in for most of his life – not that there were any fond memories to look back on aside from Mayu’s cooking lessons, a necessity he was required to learn but enjoyed – so his melancholia was not caused by nostalgia… it was the lack of personal belongings. Mayu had given him two sealing scrolls when he only needed one for his travelling pack.

Ten years here, and all he had to his name were pictures of his deceased parents and his team, some civilian clothes, and two more pairs of his Shinobi attire, all that could be put in a single, small bag. How utterly depressing.

He turned away, sliding the scroll into his back pocket, passing the other Uchihas and leaving out the door.

After four steps, he was stopped by Fugaku’s subdued voice.

“Obito…”

He didn’t turn around. “Yes, Uchiha-sama?”

“…The Hatake child. What is he to you?”

He faced him with a frown, scrutinizing his clan head’s blank expression that did not betray his inner thoughts. Obito was hesitant, not because he had no answer, but because he didn’t understand why Fugaku would ask such a pointless question.

“He’s my best friend,” he replied. “Why do you want to know?”

Fugaku seemed reluctant as he confessed, “I cannot fathom the act of willfully giving the Sharingan to another, no matter the relation. If not for a debt, then for what reason?”

Obito believed that was obvious: because Kakashi was his friend. Did he need any other reason? He couldn’t think of one that didn’t involve Kakashi being a friend or the phrase, “Because I wanted to.”

After some contemplation, he finally settled on…

“Because Kakashi is a part of my family. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Fugaku diverted his stare to Itachi, who tilted his head, confused by their conversation.

A rare, empathetic smile formed on the man’s stiff lips.

“For someone like you, Obito… it is enough.”

It wasn’t until he was walking through the abandoned backstreets of Konoha that he realized Fugaku had complimented his character.

_I guess we did part on good terms…_

The insight brought a contented smile to his face as he peered at the evening’s crescent moon, entangling his fingers behind his neck and stretching, ending his contemplation so the echo of his own voice would not ruin the soothing roar of heavy winds. It was rare for Konohagakure to be this quiet, this peaceful, so he wanted to enjoy the short walk to Kakashi’s apartment. He wouldn’t get another chance with the war still going strong.

There was a sudden blur soaring across the rooftops of empty houses on his left, and an unnerving chill seemed to strike his entire body. He slowed to a halt, rubbing his palms against his sleeves, not understanding the tension rising from his stomach and spreading until every muscle was taut and aching. When he returned his gaze to the roofs, he noticed two figures swathed in black leather beside each other, their heads hidden in shadow. One of them bowed their head, spinning on their heel and dropping out of sight, but in that second, Obito distinguished a pure white mask with a snout covering the person’s face.

ANBU.

An unexpected, stressed laugh escaped from his throat. _You know you’ve been at war for far too long when you start getting paranoid inside your own village_. He slapped his cheeks twice before running his fingers through his windblown hair.

His hands were still trembling.

He continued on his way, but something was nagging at his nerves… something significant… and glaringly obvious.

Obito froze.

_Wait… ANBU masks aren’t blank… and ANBU certainly don’t dress in black leather…_

The soles of his feet leaped off the ground in a series of front handsprings long before he registered the swipe of a sharp blade from behind. Obito landed back on his feet and dropped to his knee, confronting the masked person who had jumped down the roof, their tantō out of its sheath and pointed in his direction.

He panted from the rush of adrenaline that had heightened his senses and saved him from grievous injury. Obito placed a hand over his beating heart, forcing his expression to remain aloof even as fear caused his downed form to quake. There was a cold, unfeeling aura surrounding his assailant who he presumed was male from the broad shoulders and cropped black hair, and as the man grasped the grip of his weapon with both hands, Obito sent an apology to his waiting best friend.

_Sorry, Kakashi. It looks like I’ll be late again…_

He reached for a kunai in his pouch, standing and curling into a defensive position, his own weapon at level with his eye as he waited for the incoming attack. The man rushed him with impressive speed, swinging his blade in a diagonal motion that Obito barely managed to dodge, the tantō and kunai colliding with a raucous clang. He sprung backwards for added distance, a pointless attempt once his opponent began stabbing the tantō at his chest and abdomen.

On instinct, his Sharingan activated, allowing Obito to predict where the next attack would hit. He blocked each thrust with the handle of his kunai, using the ring to catch the tip of the tantō, his eye never straying from the longer weapon as a foreign sensation enveloped his whole being, his heartrate skyrocketing and his breathing coming faster and faster and his mouth upturning in a crazed grin, and acknowledging how fatal this battle could become, he finally recognized the root of this alarming, intense excitement… _this is what it’s like to fight for your life, for survival_ , he thought, squeezing his kunai with bruising force, oblivious to the blade slicing into his hand.

But aware of his own inexperience utilizing the dōjutsu, it was only a matter of when he would miss a strike.

The tantō scraped the side of the ring, passing his defense and grazing Obito’s left arm, and taking advantage of the opening, the man passed him, swiftly rotating on his toes and attempting to slash his open back. Obito purposely slipped, the blade slicing a few of his hairs as he landed on his back and rolled, lifting himself by the palms and flipping backwards to avoid another lethal jap, his knees slamming against the ground, the area numbing from the severe impact.

The cut on his arm stung and dirt adhered to his bloodied hand, leaving a burning, muddy mess of red. Not taking even a second to cringe from the pain, Obito lunged for the kunai that had slipped from his grasp, snatching the handle with his fingers and hurling it at the tantō nearing his shoulder, the force of his throw prying the weapon from his assailant’s hand.

Before Obito could return to his feet, he was tackled onto his back, his legs immobilized by the man’s thighs, his knees pinning Obito’s hands. Grinding his teeth, he tried wrenching his hands free, but the effort was punished by a kneecap digging into his wounded palm. An agonizing shock flared up his arm and to his shoulder, and he bit the inside of his bottom lip to quell his whimpering.

When he was about to continue struggling, his bangs were seized by a gloved hand and his head was jerked up. Obito gasped from the violent tug. Without room to keep fighting, he glared into the eyeholes of the mask and grinned, teasing yet menacing. “We haven’t even kissed, and you’re already playing rough with me.” There was no reaction to his taunt, the enemy still and silent, the same disturbing, emotionless aura. Something about him wasn’t… normal.

Abruptly, the masked man’s free hand neared his face, and Obito’s grin faded as fingers traced along the eyelid of his Sharingan eye. The unpleasant prodding alerted him to the other’s ill-intention, and that knowledge terrified him more than anything ever had. There were plenty of Uchiha with a fully developed Sharingan. He wasn’t special in that regard. His Mangekyō, however, was one of a kind, but only his team, the Hokage, and his clan knew of its existence.

He didn’t want to consider the implications of that.

Obito renewed his struggles, disregarding the pain shooting up his arm as he tried yanking his trapped hands, kicking what little he could of his legs, and turned his head away despite the strain on his scalp, squeezing his eye shut.

He couldn’t break free, and without even a hand and a weapon, he was unable to destroy the eye before it could be taken.

The pressure on his eyelid increased and panic set in. For the first time, he had fought by himself, and this loss proved just how weak he was without Rin and Kakashi aiding him. Their teamwork had improved drastically over the week, but individually, he had to admit they were all on different levels. Only Kakashi could withstand someone of this man’s level.

Obito writhed hopelessly, cursing his impotence.

There was only one way to escape, but it involved revealing the ability of his Mangekyō Sharingan, and he could not allow this man to bring back that information to whoever he was working for, which meant, if he used his dōjutsu, he would have to kill him, a feat he doubted was possible.

“Get off me!” he shouted, twisting his head and feeling the intruding fingers slip off towards his bandaged eye socket, the pull on his hair intensifying. He continued thrashing, unable to do much else, and desperation kept him fighting in spite of the exhaustion weakening his trapped limbs, and as he whipped his head to the other side in defiance, the pounding in his chest seemed to migrate to his ears, the frantic beats and the hasty rush of pumping blood deafening all other sounds, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t break away and _just get off of me, dammit…!_

The body above him was suddenly still, and his hair was released as something wet splattered across his cheeks and forehead. He refused to open his eye, but… what had happened?

Then the weight pushing him down disappeared, and with his heartbeat back in his chest, he heard a heavy thud and then- nothing. A strange sense of serenity was relaxing his rigid body, and he realized a massive amount of chakra had gathered behind his eye, the euphoria of power all too familiar.

He opened his eye…

…and scooted back, nauseated.

The man was collapsed sideways, missing his head that lay nowhere in sight, his neck bleeding out and-

Obito averted his horrified gaze to his torso, only to see blood soaking into his jacket, shirt, sleeves- _everywhere_ , and it was spreading… he swiped the fingers of his uninjured hand along the fluid trickling down the bridge of his nose and nearly vomited when it came away with more blood that was thicker and darker than the rest.

He stood, unsteady and shaking violently, when another cold presence appeared behind him. He turned around with a slight stumble, facing the man’s partner with a dreaded thought, _they saw it… they can’t get away… they can’t tell anyone…_

He tried calming his fluctuating emotions – horror, fear, anxiety, guilt, disgust – but he couldn’t find his composure.

The sheen of a dagger redirected his attention to the living masked person. _That’s right, because I slau-_

He clenched his fists, unwilling to finish or process that word, not now, not yet.

Hesitating no longer, Obito sprinted toward his other assailant, forgoing a weapon and launching himself, wrapping his arms around their neck and holding tight, crying out as the dagger pierced the upper left side of his chest. The chakra behind his eye tingled pleasantly, but it only repulsed him knowing what was coming.

He closed his spinning Mangekyō eye and screamed, “Why did you have to make me do this?!”

His body tumbled forward, arms releasing their captive. He struck the ground on his side, spitting out saliva and the blood that had gathered in the back of his throat, barely glancing at the corpse missing its bottom half as he crawled away from the gory scene, careful not to dislodge the dagger staving his blood loss.

Obito settled against an abandoned building, protected by neighboring shadows, with Kakashi’s apartment in mind, a tear sliding down his cheek, and muffling a sob with the back of his injured hand as he transported himself to safety.

_…What have I done…?_


	8. Night Of Doubt

 

For the fifth time in under a minute, Kakashi opened the apartment door and peered out, reminding himself that Obito was always late, but the incessant burn underneath his hitai-ate deterred the idea of sitting on knees and waiting. Perhaps it was a connection between their Sharingan, or maybe it was his instincts as a shinobi. Either way, something was amiss, a foreboding that wouldn’t cease no matter his own, internal reassurances.

Pakkun watched as he closed the door again and propped against it, rapping his knuckles on the door handle and counting each passing second. The puppy scratched an ear after rolling his eyes, an act Kakashi overlooked, too engrossed in his worries.

“He’s late,” he stated, more to his benefit than his companion’s, “but, that’s normal… right…?”

There was a single, unexpected thump, a great weight colliding with the door.

Kakashi startled. He wrenched the door wide open, the relieved call of his friend’s name unfinished when an unconscious Obito crumpled at his feet. “Obito…!” he shouted, distressed, examining the prone form with a quick, critical eye.

His clothes were unsalvageable, drenched in fresh blood, the pants strewed in other matter Kakashi avoided thinking about, instead focusing on the other boy’s face. A deeper shade of red was splattered across his cheeks and forehead, the orange bandages covering his left brow caught in the spray, and more blood was smeared along his nose bridge and down the side. As for visible wounds, his left sleeve was sliced at the elbow, a thin cut peeking between the split material, and a dagger – far shorter than a tantō but long enough to cause significant damage – stabbed into the left side of his chest near the shoulder. Both his hands appeared injured, but when he looked at the palms, only the right hand was marred by a deep gash and contaminated by dirt.

Reluctantly, he left Obito’s side and gathered a futon, a kunai, and his first aid kit, setting out the supplies before hauling his heftier friend onto the bedding.

 _He really needs to lose some weight. Then again_ , he squeezed the Chūnin’s biceps and did one, final pull, _maybe I just need to build more muscle_.

He sunk to his knees, removing his friend’s weapons pouch and stained shuriken holster, and then leaned over him, unbuttoning his orange collar and carefully elevating his back, removing the jacket inside out and tossing it aside. He picked up his kunai and cut Obito’s shirt, starting at the left shoulder and maneuvering around the blade, ending at the belt which he unbuckled, sliding the ripped material from its host and adding it and the reddened belt to the pile.

Kakashi paused, staring at the other boy’s defined arms, noting this to be the first time seeing Obito without all his top layers, and he had to admit, if either of them needed a change in diet or training regime, it was himself.

“Kashi-kun?” was Pakkun’s inquisitive tone.

He swerved his head towards the puppy, surprised and a bit contrite.

 _Right, no time for petty jealousy_ … he mused, standing and rushing to the kitchen, preparing a warm bowl of water and snatched two sets of hand towels. He returned to Obito’s side and began ridding him of the orange bandages, unravelling the lengthy strip from his face and letting it drift to the carpet. Kakashi immersed one towel into the bowl and wrung it damp, wiping the blood from Obito’s face and elbow wound, then threw the sodden cloth on top of the growing pile.

He mildly hesitated with the pants, but he couldn’t continue looking at whatever was stuck to the pair any longer.

Kakashi clutched a roll of gauze and scissors which he used to snip a strand for Obito’s elbow, applying it after rubbing antibiotic cream over the seeping graze. He saturated the second towel and cleansed both of Obito's hands, gentle when sterilizing the mucky, hemorrhaging palm and tightly wrapping the wound several times over, not enough to cause needless pain later, but sufficient for staunching the bleeding.

As his hand enclosed around the dagger’s grip, Pakkun leaped onto the bedding, settling between Obito’s ankles.

“Doesn’t Rin-chan have more proficiency in this?”

“She does,” he confirmed. “But she lives on the other side of the village. Obito can’t wait.”

The Jōnin held his breath as he counted down from three, tightening his grasp and yanking the blade on zero. An agonized scream followed the thud of the dagger striking the floor, Obito thrashing and flinging his arms.

Kakashi sat on the older boy’s right arm and yelled over his screeching, “Calm down, Obito, it’s just Kakashi!” while placing his hands over the gushing stab wound, green chakra surrounding his limbs.

His voice registered, the Uchiha’s struggle ceasing and his tightly closed eye flashing open, relief joined by a despairing darkness Kakashi had to look away from, concentrating on healing the deep injury from the inside, but compared to Rin, his chakra was unable to be focused efficiently, causing him to expend more than necessary. His energy was draining fast, and sooner than he preferred, the green glow retreated, leaving a lightly bleeding, rectangular shaped incision.

Despite his exhaustion, he wiped the blood from Obito’s chest, then cut and folded some gauze that he placed over the wound. He started unwinding a roll of bandages, setting the sticky section over the gauze and holding it in position.

“Sit up and lift your arms,” he instructed, watching for any indication that Obito couldn’t follow his orders.

The Uchiha lifted his upper body with his uninjured hand, not a sound escaping through his pained grimace as he raised his arms, resting his wrists against his neck, elbows bent.

With deft fingers, Kakashi wrapped Obito’s chest twice before moving the bandage roll over his left shoulder, then back around the chest and over the shoulder again, finishing with two more layers around the chest, adding a thick piece of surgical tape to secure the binding.

He slid back on his knees and absorbed the horrendous sight of his teammate, inwardly seething at the bastard who dared attack one of his precious people as he noted the bruises coloring the pale skin of Obito’s back and knees, and he would bet the dark markings had spread up the thighs from what little he could see beneath the black boxer shorts. No doubt Obito had been pinned down by a larger body mass, presumably an adult male.

But what perturbed him the most was Obito’s shadowed eye, hidden by his bangs, and his mouth, lips pressed and trembling, suppressing tears, a familiar expression, yet… foreign, filled with anguish rather than frustration.

“What happened out there?” he whispered, apprehensive of what the response might be.

His friend’s hands trembled at the question and raised them to his head, sliding his palms over his closed eye lids and fingertips brushing his bangs, and the rest of his slouched figure shuddering. His mouth opened a few centimeters, producing nothing but a choked sob that had Kakashi scooting closer, attempting to set a hand on his shoulder, but the abrupt, wretched wail Obito emitted sent him reeling on his bottom.

Obito pulled his legs in, crossing them with Pakkun jumping onto the carpet, tipping his little head rightward and a rare look of concern being directed at his favorite chew toy.

Kakashi seized Obito’s shoulders and bowed his head to align their faces. “Obito?”

Between the cries, stutters and grief-stricken moans, he deciphered the scattered, disturbing statement.

“It all happened so fast. There was so much blood and- but I didn’t mean to do it. And then the other one was there and I didn’t know what else to do.”

He forced Obito’s hands away, managing to glimpse at his hazy, dilated pupil before a strange awareness widened his glistening eye. Kakashi was knocked a foot back as Obito scrambled to unsteady feet and hurried to the bathroom. The queasy sound of retching had him following moments later, wetting a washcloth under cold water and bending down to the other boy’s side, laying it over his neck and averting his eye from the unpleasant sight of expelled stomach contents.

When Obito’s sickness subsided, Kakashi handed him the washcloth for his mouth, providing him with a tiny plastic cup filled with mouthwash which he gargled and spat into the toilet, collapsing against the wall and bending his legs, pressing his forehead to his knees and wrapping his arms around them.

“Your pants,” the Jōnin tentatively began, folded arms on the edge of the sink, staring at his friend in the mirror. “They were covered in more than just blood.” He paused when the Chūnin sniffed, his trembling intensifying. “Obito. I understand that whatever happened was not a pleasant experience, but obviously someone attacked you, and inside Konoha no less. If not me, you will have to discuss this with Hokage-sama, at least.”

“Water,” was Obito’s unexpected, hoarse plea.

He sighed.

“…Alright.”

 

An hour later in Kakashi’s bedroom, just after midnight, Obito was curled on his side on a new futon, the other bedding bagged with his soiled clothes, wearing blue sleep pants from the scroll Kakashi was forced to retrieve from the innards-splattered pants.

Kakashi was in a loose shirt and cotton shorts, Sharingan eye concealed by grey bandages, concerned and ready to leave for Rin’s home. She would have been able to comfort Obito far better than him, not realizing he was comforting the Uchiha simply by sitting beside him.

“I was attacked by two people wearing masks, a man and a woman. I thought they were ANBU, but the masks weren’t painted, and they didn’t wear the standard uniform either.”

The whispered, dolorous voice of his generally cheery teammate worried him. Obito was traumatized by something he had done, and since he had killed before, the problem was not the act of taking a life, but rather the details of how he killed these masked enemies.

What could Obito have done to devastate him this much?

“The man fought me first, and the woman second after I…” he trailed off, lifting himself and crossing his legs, his fingers wrinkling the fabric of his pants. “He used a tantō that grazed my arm, while she had the dagger that got me in the chest.”

The blatant avoidance of their deaths had Kakashi biting his tongue. He couldn’t press the issue, not without Obito’s willingness to share. Doing so would cause the Chūnin to withdraw into himself again.

“But I…” more hesitation, “I didn’t… fight the woman…”

Kakashi straightened his curved back when a tear ran down Obito’s cheek.

“She may have been less skilled, but what if she hadn’t been?” A rhetorical question since he continued in a rush. “I couldn’t chance that… or maybe I didn’t think that at all… I _just don’t know!_ I was _scared_ , and I… I-I… and before she was even there, I…” he entangled his fingers in his hair, wrenching at his scalp with a constricted pupil and a hysterical look in his sole eye, his shrill, brittle voice stammering from inner torment.

The sudden meltdown impelled Kakashi to seize Obito by the elbows, yanking the other boy’s arms down and frowning into a rotating, molten mix of red and black, a clear sign of emotional distress. “Obito, you need to calm down,” he urged.

His words went unheard.

“I slaughtered them, Kakashi!” Obito cried out, distraught. “I sliced her in half, and that man, his head- it was just gone! Killing them was effortless- a blink of an eye, my eye! The Mangekyō!” he finally clarified, and the answer sent a chill down Kakashi’s spine.

He knew Obito was able to phase parts of his body into the Kamui dimension, rendering physical attacks ineffective, and his teleportation abilities could be on par, if not better than their sensei’s Hiraishin with enough practice, but to teleport sections of an opponent’s body into Kamui, dismembering them… it was an instantaneous, fatal ability.

And for his good-hearted, compassionate friend to possess such an assassination technique… He understood, now, why Obito was breaking down.

But how was he supposed to help him?

Obito yanked his arms out of Kakashi’s loosened grasp, hugging himself and hyperventilating. “I can’t do it, Kakashi! The Sharingan- it’ll destroy me- change me… I promised, b-but it’s too much… I can’t control the curse, and the cycle will continue over and over and it’ll be all my faul-”

Horror-stricken by Obito’s escalating instability, Kakashi reacted on instinct, backhanding the Uchiha across the cheek.

He gaped at his extended arm, shocked by his own reaction, before looking back at Obito who was leaning on his uninjured hand, the bandaged one cupping his bruised cheek.

When he met eyes with lucid obsidian instead of demented crimson, relief overwhelmed him.

Kakashi enveloped Obito in a forceful hug, arms draping around his neck and face burying between his shoulder and neck, murmuring near his ear. “Obito… I may not understand what you’re going through, or what you promised, and I don’t know anything about a curse or a cycle, but… you were only protecting yourself. This won’t change you, Obito.”

Something settled against the small of his back, gliding up his spine and halting at his shoulder blades. Hands, he noted, when ten digits compressed along the bones beneath his flesh.

There was an extensive silence, and he waited, and waited until…

“The Sharingan… is a curse upon our clan, a dōjutsu that changes us over time.”

Kakashi turned his head, forehead brushing the length of Obito’s bare shoulder, eye closed and his friend’s soothing whispers washing over him, though the information being given to him was putting him on edge.

“I had doubts, when Mayu-bāchan told me, but I can’t deny my own experience with the Mangekyō Sharingan. When it’s activated… I feel so much power… it’s euphoric, but behind that pleasure… is a darkness that terrifies me. I worry that… someday… I’ll lose myself. I made a promise to her, that I would overcome this cursed cycle… but now… now that I’ve seen what this eye can do-” Obito’s voice cracked. “It’s too powerful… I don’t think I can do it, Kakashi.”

That despondent tone was horribly unnatural coming from Obito’s mouth, and he hated it.

“Don’t you dare say that!” he spat, withdrawing until only his hands were between Obito’s neck and shoulders, angered by the other boy’s doubts. The Obito he knew, who he had come to appreciate as a dear friend, did not surrender so easily.

And he had to remind Obito of that.

Kakashi glared at him. “I’ve told you before, and I’ll keep repeating it until you’re repeating it back every single damn day. You. Are not. Weak. You are strong, Obito, with a resolve not many can rival, and when you make promises, you do everything you can to keep those promises. The Sharingan is not the problem, Obito. The problem is…” he bent forward, their noses nearly touching, “…you do not believe in yourself. I know you have the power to defeat this so-called cursed cycle, but if you continue doubting your own power, that darkness will consume you.”

Obito was struck speechless, evident by the slight movement of his silent lips, shock reflected in his wide eye.

He didn’t expect to be drawn back into a constricting embrace, his left knee slipping and causing his body to collapse in the Uchiha’s lap. His cheek was pressed against Obito’s bound chest and his arms unconsciously wrapped around the other’s waist, awkward embarrassment warming his face.

“Obito…?” he mumbled, uncertain.

“You really are… my best, and most precious friend. Thank you, Kakashi.”

Kakashi sighed, a shaky breath of air, as his eye began to water from the intensity of joy swelling within his chest cavity, but then, Obito’s previous statement suddenly sunk in… _the Sharingan is a curse upon our clan, a dōjutsu that changes us over time_.

He was reluctant to ask after managing to reassure Obito of his concerns, but…

“Obito, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is this ‘darkness’ we’re referring to?”

A weight settled atop his head. “Hatred, an emotion I never felt until my Sharingan activated.”

“Never?” he wondered, skeptical, almost tempted to nudge the Chūnin’s head from his own so he could search his face for a lie.

Obito chuckled without a hint of amusement, the vibration a loud rumble under Kakashi’s ear. “I have disliked many people, Kakashi, but hate, no, never before the Sharingan. Not even those who did all they could to make my life miserable.”

He tightened his hold on Obito’s waist. “…I’m sorry.”

Obito laughed, this one humored by his apology, and Kakashi narrowed his eye, glowering upwards, his chin resting in place of his cheek on Obito’s chest. “This isn’t a laughing matter, Obito.”

“It totally is, Bakashi,” he replied, grinning down at him, the dark shadows in his eye receding. “You were never included in that list, you know. If anything, it’s because of you that I was motivated to get stronger. Kakashi… you’re the reason I’ve grown as a shinobi, and now, you’ve encouraged me to become even stronger to fulfill my promise to Mayu-bāchan.”

He couldn’t look at Obito after that, a light, pink flush flaring along his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. How did Obito manage to embarrass him like this with only a few compliments? He felt like Rin, unable to criticize himself without Obito there to tell him otherwise. And that thought reminded him of Obito’s chaotic dialogue.

The blood drained from his face, paling, realizing if there truly was a curse of hatred, the Obito he had come to consider his most precious friend could eventually fade into someone as cold and conceited as the Uchiha elders, or reticent and distant like Uchiha Fugaku.

After all their team had been through, there was no way he would allow that to happen.

“Obito, you’re my best friend too, so…” he unwound his arms from the other’s waist, sitting up and smiling behind his mask, fisting his hand and tapping the side of Obito’s head, “…I’ll just have to make sure you don’t ever lose your way. And if you do…”

Obito blinked, touching the area that was tapped. He returned an unsure smile. “And if I do…?”

“Nothing,” he answered, inwardly laughing at the Uchiha’s sudden, baffled frown, continuing with, “because it will never happen, not while I’m around, and not as long as you don’t give up.”

That elicited a broad grin from Obito, his eye sparkling from an onset of happy tears. Kakashi was drawn into another suffocating hug. “You really are a pro at this. Making me feel better, I mean.”

“Just don’t expect me to pull you out of depression again. Not until you start believing in yourself more,” he muttered into his shoulder.

“I’ll do my best,” Obito promised, chuckling. “Also…”

Kakashi moved back, raising a wary eyebrow at the other’s slow forming smirk. “What?”

“If you want to keep snuggling with me, give me some time to put a shirt on.” He gestured at his unclad torso, the teasing tone a familiar comfort.

That didn’t stop Kakashi’s eye from twitching.

He tore his annoyed stare away from Obito’s chest, scowling to suppress his blooming blush while reaching for Obito’s folded pile of clothes, grabbing a long-sleeved blue shirt. He pulled the thin material over the Uchiha’s head, ignoring the muffled complaint as he flipped the switch on his lamp and climbed into bed.

One thing was for sure: the idiot was back to normal, at least for the night.

 

 


	9. Emotional Fluctuation

 

Kakashi awoke to clanking and odd battering noises coming from outside his bedroom door. He sat up and stretched his arms above his head. With a bleary eye, he glanced behind to his shelf above the bed and sought the green numbers lighting his clock. Noon, he deciphered through blurred vision, yawning. He had overslept, the first time in years.

As the sleep faded from his gaze, he noticed an extra picture frame in between his team photo and the photograph of his young mother and father, taken a few months before he was born. The new picture was of an embracing couple sharing similar obsidian eyes and pale skin, the woman’s black hair messily lifted by a silver clip and the man’s dark brunet locks gathered in a thick braid that laid over his shoulder, reaching down to his waist. Their grins were directed at each other, love shining through their relaxed expressions.

The wide smiles were remarkably familiar, and he unconsciously looked to his left where Obito should have been resting, finding the Uchiha’s futon immaculately folded in the corner, his night shirt on top. His backpack was settled against the bedding, open and emptied of its contents.

Kakashi focused on the happy couple again, and a sudden bout of melancholy had him collapsing back on his pillows, staring at the jagged designed ceiling. He was sure the two were Obito’s parents, a mother and father his friend didn’t remember, and that saddened him. They were nothing like the Uchiha he had met over the years as a shinobi, their carefree appearances forever captured in that moment, a showcase of emotion the fire-based clan detested, and Obito had inherited his parents’ spirit.

He sighed as the dull slams continued, rolling out of bed and fixing his sheets, sliding his bare feet into slippers and leaving the bedroom, following the busy sounds into the kitchen where he witnessed an unexpected scene.

In front of the installed cutting board was Obito whose left thumb and forefinger would snatch a bead of sanshō, placing the pepper on the wood and smashing it with his fist, grinding the spice. He continued that one-handed routine for another minute before gathering the crushed sanshō in a tiny bowl, setting it adjacent to a larger bowl teeming with carrot sticks, beams of light through the above window producing a moist sheen along the orange vegetable.

He moved to the sink on the far left and swiftly washed his hand, drying it with the washcloth sticking from the bottom cabinet, always mindful of the bandage protecting his injured hand, then to the stove on the far right, rotating the knob top valve to off, the low set flame extinguishing from beneath a black lidded pan. Resting on the other burner was an iron skillet, darkened flakes of chicken filling the pan’s base and steam rising from the poultry.

From the fridge, Obito took out a plastic bag containing diagonally sliced cucumbers, pouring the batch into his hand and squeezing until they were free of excess liquid over the sink. He set the cucumbers aside in another bowl.

After he opened the spice cupboard and removed a jar of sesame seeds, Obito turned and met his eye, grinning cheekily.

“Finally awake, I see.”

Kakashi said nothing, merely pulled a chair from the table and flopped down, watching Obito walk about the kitchen as if he had lived at the apartment for years, and he hated admitting how jealous he was by Obito’s obvious experience. If he had even touched the dials on that stove-

“I didn’t have a chance to ask you last night, but when did you learn to use Iryō Ninjutsu?”

His eye was fixated on the Uchiha’s bare hand blending the sanshō and newly diced carrots in a mixing bowl along with the rice he had steamed inside the black pan, seemingly unbothered by the heat that may have been attributed to his practice with the element of fire.

“I asked Rin to teach me last year.” He lifted his own hands to his face, blocking Obito’s working form. “I was arrogant enough to believe I had the chakra control for it, but compared to Rin...” Each hand dropped to a knee, and he sighed. “I only managed the basics, and it’s still not perfect. I lose too much, so on a mission, my medicinal chakra would be pretty much useless.”

“That explains why my chest aches a bit.”

Kakashi glanced at the bandages binding his friend’s torso before honing in on the white grains. The chicken flakes he had noticed a while ago, as well as the sesame seeds, were now added to the rice, which Obito was portioning between two rice bowls.

“Oh!” Obito abruptly declared. “You only have vegetables and pre-made meats in that fridge of yours, and the unopened spices are strange. Not to mention every appliance in this kitchen is new. It’s like you don’t ever cook in here,” he supposed, following with a question and a raised eyebrow in his direction, “Care to explain why?”

Kakashi blanched, avoiding the curiosity in that dissecting gaze. He would have preferred silence on that topic, but Obito had shared a lot of personal information last night. He wanted to give back _something_ , even if it wasn’t on the same scale.

“After my father’s death, I was required to attend a culinary beginner’s class, like most orphans who had Shinobi as parents.”

Obito nodded as he separated the cucumbers into two groups and added the piles to the rice bowls.

“By the second lesson, I was banned from ever setting foot in their kitchens,” Kakashi confessed.

One of the rice bowls were placed on his side of the table, Obito smiling expectantly. “What the hell happened?”

He gave a reluctant answer. “…Explosions.”

Obito busted out with strained laughter, covering his forehead with a palm. “I don’t want to know how you managed that,” he breathlessly stated, ending with a slight snicker.

He accepted the unintended out from the conversation, staring down at the finished lunch as Obito sat across from him.

“Is this salt on the cucumbers?” He could discern transparent specks littered about the ragged skin. Below the flower patterned greens was the fluffy rice, mixed with shavings of chicken, sesame seeds, and the carrots.

“That’s right. I was in the mood for pickled cucumbers once I saw what was in your fridge.”

The reference to his poorly equipped refrigerator had him grimacing behind his mask. He glared down at the cuisine he swore was mocking him, ignoring Obito’s muffled laughs as he pulled apart his chopsticks and snatched a cucumber, bringing it to his face.

A sudden silence froze him in place.

He gawked at Obito’s eager grin and groaned. “You going to look away, or not?”

“Oh, come on. I wouldn’t tell a soul, promise,” the Chūnin pledged, waving his own chopsticks.

Honestly, he would never understand the fascination with the unknown, especially when that unknown was nothing special. And it’s not as if he had a problem, or was embarrassed to be seen without his mask, but the fabric was a part of his flesh after wearing it for so many years. Even when he ate, he consumed food at an accelerated pace, never long enough to recognize the loss of his mask. …And now that he was thinking along that topic, he realized he almost began eating as anyone else would have.

Perhaps it was Obito’s calming presence, as well as the scent of a home cooked meal, one he had not experienced since his father’s…

He sighed. Everything always circled back to his father’s suicide, and Kami, how he hated it.

Had he truly stopped living after that day?

“You’re zoning out on me, Kakashi.”

“Ah! Sorry.”

Kakashi pulled down his mask and crammed a few cucumbers into his mouth, chewing slowly and relishing the simple, salty and bitter taste. He swallowed, reaching for a ball of rice and carrots, but was distracted by a wide, crimson eye.

“What are you doing?” he wondered with a glower.

“Oh, just memorizing, nothing more,” was the innocent reply.

He retaliated by flinging his chopsticks passed Obito’s face, a failed attempt considering the dōjutsu he was challenging.

 

* * *

 

Obito caught the wooden utensils between his index, middle and ring finger, smirking teasingly as he handed the pair back to the owner, who, unsurprisingly, was human beneath the mask. He could recall several rumors about Kakashi having something ridiculous like fish lips or enlarged buckteeth, but there was nothing. Not even a blemish.

How disappointing…

“Try again, No-mask-san?” he goaded, the world of slow motion deactivating along with his Sharingan.

He was blatantly snubbed in favor of the meal he had prepared over a span of two in a half hours, as the salted cucumbers were required to remain in a cold environment for two hours, and the rice needed to be rinsed and then immersed in water for a good hour. Another hour had been dedicated to exploring Kakashi’s kitchen, where he discovered an amazing amount of unused equipment and spices, though the refrigerator’s contents left a lot to be desired. A few vegetables and pre-cooked poultry didn’t allow for flavorsome meals.

When was the last time Kakashi ate anything other than raw, plain foods or take out?

From past experiences, he knew the answer would upset him.

“Now _you_ are the one zoning out, Obito.”

“I guess I am,” he agreed, rubbing the back of his head. He winced when his palm pressed down accidently. He found himself observing the binding on his right hand, the dried blood that had soaked in overnight, and the recent patches of bright red bleeding through. Maybe… he had worked the severe wound too much. But there were no other options after his nightmares. Between training and cooking, the latter was safe, nowhere near distressing to his bruised body caused by those masked bastards- he strayed from that thought immediately.

( _Repressing a traumatic event is detrimental to the healing process_ , would have been Rin’s chastising words.)

Instead, he remembered how Kakashi bandaged his injuries, healed his most threatening wound despite the drain it had on his chakra, listened without even a measure of disbelief and consoled him, and to consider Obito his best friend…

Suddenly, the idea of leaving Kakashi and Rin behind, even if for a good reason, was-

“Anybody in there?”

Obito opened his mouth to retort, only to have a carrot forced in. He swallowed without chewing and began choking, pounding his chest with a seething glare aimed at the amused Jōnin.

“You ass!” he finally growled, coughing afterwards.

Kakashi’s smirk didn’t fade. “Nice to know there’s a person behind the waste disposal.”

He didn’t understand the meaning behind the sarcasm until Kakashi pointed at his near-emptied dish, a few grains of rice attached to the sides.

When had he…?

“Is it about those assassins?”

His heart skipped a beat.

When he looked up, the Jōnin was frowning, troubled.

Obito waved his arms frantically, exclaiming, “No, of course not! Stop worrying about that, Bakashi,” and emitting an unhinged laugh. He leaped up, sending the chair back a foot, the resulting, piercing shriek ricocheting around the kitchen. He wasn’t aware of Kakashi who rushed up as well, a sickening bout of vertigo centering his unfocused eye on a cupboard. He snatched a glass with shaky fingers, only to watch it plummet to the ground, sending thousands of shards across the rectangular, wooden boards.

“Obito!”

Kakashi’s shout went unheard as he bent down and picked the largest piece up without thought, slicing his fingers along the serrated edges. He let not one gasp escape from his mouth, though not on purpose. The pain was akin to the voice trying to reach his consciousness: white noise.

His left hand was abruptly slapped, the fragment he had held smashing into more pieces against the drawers below the cutting board, forming an indentation between two handles. Awareness vanished the fog shadowing his eye, and he caught the grim, unyielding look in Kakashi’s own eye as his bleeding limb was taken into two calloused hands.

“Not about last night, you said?” Kakashi hissed, dragging him to the sink and washing the blood from his lacerated fingers.

“No, I- I was telling the truth. It wasn’t- it…” he trailed off, silenced by a glare.

The Jōnin retrieved the first aid kit, drying Obito’s hand and hastily taping each finger several times over. His other hand was seized next, Kakashi scowling down at the spotted bandage.

“Not thinking about it… that’s the issue, Obito.” The binding caked in crusty, carmine blood was carefully lifted from his infected flesh, both of them wincing at the deep, oozing wound that Kakashi rewrapped after applying more antibiotic cream. “But I shouldn’t tell you something you already know. It’s demeaning.”

“Kakashi-”

“Just be careful next time,” he advised. “Rin and I won’t always be around to fix your wounds.”

 _Of all things to say_ , he mused ironically, recalling a decision he had made last night before falling asleep.

Obito dipped his head. “You’re right. I promise to do better. Honest.”

“Good,” and that was the end to their exchange.

 

* * *

 

The next hour was spent cleaning the shattered glass and used dishes, though Kakashi did most of the work, Obito’s hands unable to be dirtied or saturated in water.

Seeing as Kakashi was an accident waiting to happen in the cooking department, washing dishes was the least he could do.

All too soon, they were preparing to leave for the Hokage Tower in their signature outfits, Obito covering his empty eye socket with his orange bandages and fastening his hitai-ate over his forehead, Kakashi following suit and sliding the Konoha insignia over his Sharingan eye.

Kakashi locked the apartment, saying, “I want to see where those assassins attacked you, first.”

Obito tensed for a brief instant and let out a shuddering sigh.

“Okay,” he conceded without complaint.

One would assume there to be a bloodbath between two corpses, gore absorbed by the sandy road, beige particles clumped in sticky clusters of human matter, with eerie, dilapidated houses looming on both sides, a scene out of nightmares despite the blinding rays of sunlight peeking through masses of cumulous clouds overhead.

Kakashi, however, speculated to find something far worse than a decapitated male and a bisected female laid about the ground, and in these particular cases, he hated being right.

Obito laughed, a sarcastic one, and knelt to his knees, shaking his head. He had expected this, of course. One didn’t attempt larceny against a member of the Uchiha without a contingency plan, even an Uchiha like him who had been deemed a clan failure. But a clean-up on this scale, where not even a footprint was embedded in the soil, while impressive, was utterly infuriating.

He punched the ground in his rage, indifferent to the acute pain it caused his wounded fingers, and he was grateful not to hear a disapproving remark from Kakashi. The last thing he wanted was to take his anger out on his best friend.

“You know what this means,” the Jōnin stated, wandering further down the road.

Obito watched his back for a full minute before standing with a heavy weight on his shoulders, leaping to the rooftops and flanking Kakashi’s right. “The person who hired those assassins has authority, possibly a leadership position, or maybe a councillor, and Konoha’s borders have been heavily guarded since the war began,” he muttered pensively, the other boy picking up on the thought.

“So the likelihood of them being a citizen of our village is high, but an outside influence is not impossible. Which brings up the important question.” They arrived at the tower. In front of the doors, Kakashi leaned against his arm, whispering, “Do you know what they were after, Obito?”

He tilted his head and murmured two words, dredging up the grim memory of fingers pressing against his eyelid.

“Kekkei genkai.”

Kakashi withdrew from his arm, looking up at him. “You of all… then they knew… but why you…?” he stammered, his astute mind constructing a list of realizations from Obito’s answer.

For Obito to be targeted out of all other Uchiha – the only clan member in possession of the Mangekyō Sharingan – chances of it being a coincidence were practically nil. Yet, no one but the council of elders knew of the advanced dōjutsu, and he would never dare suspect Rin or Minato of leaking perilous information, and the Hokage didn’t have conceivable motivation. Either one or more of the elders were responsible for Obito’s attack, or there was a spy somewhere in their midst.

Why though? He should have been the target, a holder of the Sharingan who had not an ounce of Uchiha blood, unable to use the Sharingan’s ultimate form, and still learning to properly utilize its full potential. It should have been him.

Obito shrugged, providing him a dour grin. “Because as far as anyone else is concerned, I’m the black sheep of the Uchiha clan, and the dead last of our generation. That’s just how it is.” His grin widened then, becoming much more cheery. “But that’ll change eventually. I _guarantee_ you, Kakashi.”

There was a peculiar slowness to that word, Kakashi noted as they entered the tower. _What are you planning, Obito?_

The Hokage’s aide met them on the third floor, multiple stacks of completed paperwork occupying her work desk. She had been sorting the papers into folders marked by numbers and abbreviations when they reached the last set of stairs, and she flashed them a quick smile, closing the filing cabinet and locking the drawer.

Due to the temporary lull in mission assignments, their request for a meeting was granted immediately, the aide leading them to the Sandaime’s office. When ushered inside, they were met with the Hokage, and unexpectedly, their sensei.

“Sensei!” they called simultaneously.

Minato turned towards them, open-mouthed. “What are you two here for?”

The students of the Yellow Flash glanced at each other, unconsciously speaking with their single eyes.

 _Should we?_ Obito wondered with a furrowed brow, hesitant to involve the blond.

 _We’re a team_ , Kakashi decided, nodding sharply.

 


	10. Medic's Reflection

 

“Rin-chan, lunch is ready!”

“Coming, Okaasan!”

Rin rushed down the stairs and towards the kitchen area, barging into her younger brother who stood in front of the doorway. Her hands gripped his slim shoulders before he could collapse forward, tugging him into a loose embrace against her legs. The crown of his brunet head slid against her stomach as he looked up at her, his blue eyes pouting into her hazel ones.

“You’re too big, Aneki,” he complained in a high-pitched whine.

An amused smirk played on her lips as she replied in a mock, angry tone, “For your information, I am in perfect shape. You’re just too tiny.”

Their mother and father laughed, the former joining in with, “Rin-chan is right, Iō-kun. You should really eat more vegetables.”

“But they’re gross, Kaachan!”

Rin released her brother and he skipped to the chabudai, plopping onto his knees with an eager grin directed at their mother who sat in front of him, then towards their father kneeling on his left.

She lost her smile, a gradual shift of the lips as she watched her family interact like some unwanted outsider.

How many weeks had it been since she was allowed to be a part of her wonderful family, she wondered with momentary forlornness. Born into a civilian family, she had once acquiesced to a future of marriage with a wealthy merchant by age sixteen. Several girls she had befriended in childhood were already engaged, preparing themselves to be textbook wives and prosper the village with multiple children.

She had no desire to regress back into that unfulfilling mold, but she was still an adoring young girl craving familial interaction, desperate to share her harrowing, exciting experiences as a kunoichi and boast about her undying friendships with her precious boys.

But Konohagakure was at war, an enduring struggle between villages extinguishing lives by the hundreds of thousands for purposes long forgotten after the hundreds of violent battles and unforgiving massacres, and being a field medic, she was a beacon of hope for all the families dwelling in Konoha, increasing the chances of their loved ones returning home from the frontlines.

It was a daily internal struggle, knowing she was sacrificing her own family’s happiness for others, but she had sworn a Hippocratic oath as an Iryō-nin to use her hands for healing and continuing life until her death. Had she been a mere kunoichi, it would have been possible to terminate her service for her parents and little brother.

She was a medic, though, a lifetime obligation, and even if she could rescind her vows, she doubted she would have the will to do so.

Just as she was approaching the chabudai, there was a harsh sequence of knocks from the entrance of their home.

She could not bring herself to look at her parents, already picturing their disappointed faces, and then there was the poorly concealed fear in her mother’s eyes, always reflecting the haunting thought of her daughter returning home in the form of a death notification.

Rin rushed to the front door, wrenching it open to see a tall man donning a boar mask with his fist raised. He bowed and handed her a scroll, then disappeared in a flash of smoke.

She blinked and glanced down at the word _urgent_ , unraveling the parchment to recognize the elegant handwriting of her Hokage, demanding her immediate attendance to an ongoing team meeting in the Sandaime’s office.

At least it wasn’t a mission, but why-

“Rin?” was the abrupt, masculine call.

The medic crushed the scroll between two clenching fists, facing her father with a regretful smile.

“Impromptu mission?”

“A team meeting,” she answered. Before he could open his mouth, she continued, “With the Hokage.”

Hopefulness leaked through his request, “Be here for dinner?”

Without thinking of the possibility that she would be unable to keep her promise, Rin said, “I will,” firmly hugging him around the waist.

He had enough time to return the embrace before she was dashing up the stairs into her bedroom, dressing in her kunoichi attire and tying her hitai-ate over her forehead, jumping from her window and to the roofs.

She turned her head once at the sound of goodbyes to witness her parents waving at her, her little brother sitting on top of their touching shoulders with his hands circling his mouth as he screamed.

“See you soon, Aneki!”

Rin waved back.

Fifteen minutes later, she was nearing the Sandaime’s office where faint, inaudible yelling could be heard. She stopped before the door as Obito’s voice suddenly snapped from the other side.

“Kakashi!”

A heavy silence followed and she chose then to enter the room.

Once inside, she found her sensei on his feet, bent slightly at the waist with his hands out in a placating manner, his facial features taut and apprehensive.

Her teammates stood straight and tense, turning towards her with Obito offering her a strained smile. Kakashi, however, wore a downtrodden, and strangely cowed, expression radiating an unusual frustration, crossing his arms and compressing his fingers into the flesh peeking between his sleeves and arm protectors.

Worried by the stressed body language, she instinctively searched the boys for any irregularities, examining every inch of skin she could find on their overdressed bodies with a critical eye. It was the white material on Obito’s typically bare hands that hardened her scanning gaze. She hurried to him, snatching his hands with unforgiving force.

Rin grimaced at the fingers of Obito’s left hand and the palm of his right, fresh blood having soaked through the medical wraps, and glancing at her own hands afterwards, found red smudges on her finger pads. Her heart squeezed in its confines at the perturbing sight.

A sense of unease had her asking, “What happened?” as her hands began to illuminate green light.

Obito stared down at her with a severe frown, not answering her and instead, pulled out of her grasp before her chakra could take effect, forcing another smile. “Not now, Rin.”

“But your hands are-”

“-with all five fingers,” he interrupted, his tone soothing and kind. “You can heal them later, alright?”

An automatic protest caught in her throat as she gaped with dread.

Why was Obito so casual about his injuries, Obito who, while emotionally strong, was sensitive to even a mere papercut? And when she had roughly grabbed his hands. Normally he would have flinched, a vicious reaction followed by the threat of tears in his onyx eye – eyes plural not even two weeks ago.

It was Obito’s sensitivity to pain that brought them together, Rin suddenly recalled, a memory attacking her subconscious.

Back when she had just turned six, she was returning home from the playground before she passed a little boy around her age. He was curled into a ball, his face hidden behind his legs as he sobbed. As Rin neared him, she caught sight of his skinned knees, the left bleeding a thin stream down the shin.

“What happened?” she had inquired, tilting her head.

He hesitated looking up, and when he did, the first thing she noticed was how black his eyes were, opaquer than an unlit room but without the absolute terror darkness usually caused her to feel as a young child. They were warm somehow, kind and innocent with a watery sheen making the obsidian color even more beautiful.

Not receiving an answer, she fired off another question. “What’s your name, then?”

Another hesitant pause, and then… “I can’t tell you,” he whispered hoarsely, sniffing. His voice, though high-pitched, was a lower register than any boy she had met, a calming series of syllabus to her ears

“Well,” she cheerfully continued, undeterred by his reluctant behavior, “my name’s Rin. Nice to meet you!” She reached back to the pouch she wore on her waist, getting out her first aid kit and selecting a tiny packet of antibiotic cream, two of her largest band-aids, and an antibacterial wipe. “How’d you hurt yourself?”

As she began cleaning his wounds, the boy let out a few whimpers in response to the sting of disinfection. He eventually said, “…Running.”

He must have been clumsy if he had fallen with no one around, she had thought. In case she was wrong, she asked, “Why were you running?” after stretching the band-aids over each knee.

She quickly regretted her curiosity because he immediately erupted into sobs, burying his face into his hands. His muffled, self-deprecating response was heart wrenching just from his miserable tone. “I’m a big failure! I can’t- do- anything right. I tried so hard for her, but I’m just a disgrace!”

Failure, disgrace. They had not been words a little kid would naturally use unless spoken to by an older person, but being a child herself at the time, she hadn’t realized that. She had no understanding of the denotations or connotations behind failure and disgrace. Recognizing that, it was no surprise she glossed over what he had revealed to her.

His surname was a mystery to her, and even if she had known anything about the clan, she never would have grasped why someone as benign as Obito was believed to besmirch the Uchiha.

She patted the boy’s head and grinned wide, hoping to encourage his frowning face. “Don’t cry,” she reassured, handing him a purple polka dotted handkerchief. “It’ll make your skin really red and your eyes’ll get swollen.”

He stared at the vibrant cloth, sniffling and hiccupping against his hands. Probably a good thirty seconds passed before the boy accepted it, blowing his nose noisily. “Obito,” he uttered nasally.

“Eh?”

“My name,” he restated. “It’s Obito.”

 _Obito_ , she had repeated in her head, smiling. She took no notice of the lack of surname. Aloud, she pronounced, “Obito… I like it!”

A blush pinkened his already flushed face, and with the washed out radiating lights of the setting sun gleaming on them, he appeared sunburned, emphasizing the extreme paleness of his skin. The otherwise pallid shading was natural, though, a perfect contrast to his eyes and short mop of spiked hair.

Reminded of the dwindling light, she remembered her incoming curfew. It had not been long since she met this boy, but she wanted to see him again, to know him better, and to understand why he was crying alone without anyone to help him. He seemed lonely to her, so with an apologetic smile, she said, “I have to get home,” watching as Obito slumped, more tears wetting his lashes. “How about we meet here tomorrow? Same place around noon. You can give me my handkerchief back,” she added.

He immediately nodded, his voice breaking on an exuberant yes.

Rin giggled at his enthusiasm. She had the uplifting feeling they would become great friends.

And when they met for the second time, Obito asked the one question that would shape her future.

“Are you training to be a medic-nin, Rin-san?”

…Glancing up at the older Obito, Rin yielded with an uncertain, concurring nod. She was against leaving her best friend in any amount of pain, but witnessing his resistance to her forceful handling, she had the disquieting feeling her best friend had something far worse than physical pain plaguing him.

She looked between her teammates to her Hokage and noted the distinct wrinkles lining the corners of his lips and his eyes that were distant and fraught, as if he was reliving a memory far more significant than hers could ever be.

From everyone’s expressions, she knew she had missed an intense confrontation, yet, despite hating being out of the loop, she was a little relieved. She didn’t want to learn what had caused Obito’s normally affable, cheerful voice to become so strict and domineering. Whatever it was, the sensitive watery eyes she loved would have been replaced by something darker, not like Obito at all. Label her a fool, but she wanted to cling to the boy she had met in childhood before her life had been occupied by war, when nothing could have changed Obito’s innocent demeanor.

Obito had not been that little boy for quite some time, though, and seeing him now, injured, closed-off, _cold_ … never would she be able to smile with him without wondering if she was the only one smiling.

 

 


End file.
